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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218168">If I Close My Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts'>EssayOfThoughts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ripley’s Assistant [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Chroma Conclave Arc, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Percy de Rolo Has Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Questionable Coping Mechanisms, The healing process is not a straight line, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unintentionally Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:40:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>66,775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord and Lady Briarwood are gone. Anna Ripley is dead. Cassandra has returned.</p><p>Percy has to pick up the pieces and keep going.</p><p>A Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099492/chapters/60804340">Ripley's Assistant</a>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ripley’s Assistant [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is taken from <i>Rag Doll Physics</i> by the Diablo Swing Orchestra, though one of my betas immediate thoughts was of Bastille's <i>Pompeii.</i> Both are arguably applicable in their respective lyrical contexts.</p><p>This is a sequel to <i>Ripley's Assistant</i> and will not make much sense without that. The bare minimum summary however is as follows: Ripley was Percy's tutor instead of Anders, Percy's trust in her allowed her to keep him captive as her assistant over the five years of the Briarwood occupation until Cassandra returned with Vox Machina. Percy understandably has issues.</p><p>Many thanks to my betas <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strandshaper/pseuds/Strandshaper">Jacob</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiterou/pseuds/Kiterou">Aster</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuck_Johannsen/pseuds/Chuck_Johannsen">Chuck</a>, many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamerion">Chamerion</a> without whom this fic would not exist and many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft">Niamh</a> who talked me through a few rough patches in this fic and encouraged me to keep on going.</p><p>Those of you who read the last Arc - I hope you enjoy this one. Those of you only joining us now... bear in mind this will not be straightforward, easy or necessarily fun. Healing never is and Percy has a long way to go.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s up early the next day. He has to be - there’s so much to do. His rooms feel strange to him still, too used to Anna’s after so long, rendering his own almost unfamiliar. He splashes his face with cold water to wake himself up, makes sure he has everything together before heading downstairs.</p><p>He doesn’t expect Cassandra to be there - nor, clearly, does she expect him to be down so early. She stares at him as he pours himself coffee and plates up some toast.</p><p>“Good morning,” he says almost pointedly and she blinks.</p><p>“Good morning, Percy,” she says, frowning. “Are you feeling all right? You’re up very early.”</p><p>“As well as can be expected. Yourself?”</p><p>“Fine,” she says, gesturing with a hand as though to brush away the question. “Seriously, though. It’s six in the morning. You never used to get up this early.”</p><p>He shrugs. “People change,” he says, buttering his toast. “I changed. <em> You </em> changed. You’d give our parents a heart attack with how readily you handle your daggers but that’s hardly a bad thing.”</p><p>She falls silent at that but doesn’t stop frowning, her mug cradled in her hands as she watches him. He doesn’t much like it; it reminds him altogether too much of Anders - and now there’s no Anna to protect him.</p><p>Thankfully her attention is rapidly drawn away.</p><p>“Morning, Vex,” she says, indicating the space next to her. Vex’ahlia - <em> no, she’d asked him to call her Vex </em> - sits, her bear settling beside her with a huff. </p><p>“Morning,” she replies. “Cass, Percy.”</p><p>It’s easy to smile at Vex; she hasn’t tried to pass any kind of judgement on him. “Good morning, Vex,” he says. “I hope the rooms for everyone are proving all right? I did ask for them to be aired out but a lot of them haven’t been used in years.”</p><p>“Lovely,” she says, reaching for the coffee-pot and a milk jug. “Though I did want to ask - did you put us in your siblings’ rooms or-”</p><p>“No, ah.” He pauses, sets down his toast. “The rooms on the other side of mine were our siblings’. I’ve left them alone.” He glances to his sister. “I rather thought Cassandra would want to see them before deciding what to do. They were left sealed during, ah. The occupation. I think the only one of the family rooms that saw regular use outside of mine was our parents’.”</p><p>Cass pauses, goes pale, pushes her plate away.</p><p>“Briarwoods,” she says, and he nods.</p><p>“There wasn’t much I could do,” he says quietly. “I was surprised they left our siblings’ rooms alone.”</p><p>Breakfast is quiet after that. Cassandra seems to withdraw into herself, now pondering the implications of the occupation, and though Percy is relatively comfortable in the presence of Vex’ahlia after the day before he is much less so with the rest of his sister’s varied band of friends. As soon as is reasonable he excuses himself, secreting himself in what had been his mother’s study before Delilah claimed it. He has no idea where the official ledgers should be but he sets himself to searching besides.</p><p>For all the unfamiliar surroundings and the unfamiliar task, it’s almost familiar all the same. He ends up on the floor once he finds the ledgers, too many of them to easily spread out on the desk. It’s almost comfortable to be sat on the floor of a study again, going over papers to try to find the essential information he seeks.</p><p>There’s no Anna for him to take it all to and he doesn’t know how to process how he feels about that.</p><p><em> Not now, </em> he decides. He can contemplate that later - for now he has work to do and it’s almost easy to lose himself in it. </p><p>He’s not disturbed until it’s almost lunchtime. The door, left shut but unlocked, creeps open and a familiar half-elven face pokes around its edge.</p><p>“Percy?”</p><p>He blinks up at Vex’ahlia from the ledgers in his lap, the stacks strewn across the floor. It takes him a moment, more than a little surprised at the intrusion.</p><p>“It’s lunchtime dear, are you going to join us?”</p><p><em> Time flies- </em> except not quite. It had felt almost as though he’d been sat there poring over ledgers for far longer, but he’s not inclined to skip meals when aware of them. Skipping meals puts him in a bad temperament, if he’s in a bad temperament he will snap at those he should not snap at. Given how things are now, his sister returned and having reclaimed Whitestone, he really doesn’t want to be on the bad side of any one of her friends.</p><p>“I think so,” he says, offering a smile. “Give me just one moment to get this sorted.”</p><p>It’s a matter of seconds to tidy things away, barely a minute before he has everything as he’d like and is offering Vex’ahlia his arm for them to head downstairs.</p><p>Vex’ahlia is a pleasant presence even when she’s not trying to talk him back from a rather literal ledge and Percy finds himself enjoying her company more than expected. He’s aware that he doesn’t really know her very well but she is clever and she is kind, which he likes, and she’s quick to poke genuine teasing fun at him. For all the bear that lumbers up to her as they walk down he gets no sense of threat or malice from her and it’s… it’s soothing. He hasn’t felt unthreatened in a very long time.</p><p>“So,” Vex says, dragging discussion back around as they reach the bottom of the staircase, arm in politely offered arm. “The ledgers?”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” he says. “The, ah- when the Briarwoods took over they obviously weren’t about to let a de Rolo handle the finances, so they’ve been under Delilah’s control for the past five years. If we’re to rebuild Whitestone, restart trade with Turst-” He waves a hand. “Obviously we’ll need to get an idea of what, if anything, the treasury has left.”</p><p>“And?” Vex’s head is tilted curiously, expression openly inviting further information. “How’s it looking?”</p><p>Percy sighs. “It would help if I had an easier time making head or tail of them, frankly,” he says. “But as it is, not as well as I’d hope.”</p><p>Vex frowns, eyes dropping from his face. He’d ask what was the matter but for the fact they’re passing through the doorway to where everyone else is apparently already gathered for lunch; he doesn’t get a chance.</p><p>“Percy!” calls Keyleth - the lively red-headed druid and he’s still not entirely sure why she’s so friendly but he doesn’t mind it in the least. She waves at him. “I saved you a seat.”</p><p>He blinks at her, a little taken aback, but goes to join her as Vex slips from his side to join her brother and his sister at the other end of the table. Vex is speaking quickly and quietly to them both and Percy can’t help but be concerned.</p><p>“I’m planning to try to reinvigorate the Sun Tree and the farmland again now the Briarwoods are gone,” Keyleth says. “Do you know where it would be best to start?”</p><p>He keeps half an eye on the twins and his sister but he wants to see Whitestone flourish once more at least as much as Keyleth seems to and lets her pull him into conversation. Occasionally the small glowing gnome - Pike, he remembers - reminds him to eat and it’s … it’s not <em> quite </em> comfortable, eating meals with these people largely strangers, but Keyleth is welcoming and Cass is his sister and though he’s worried at whatever he’s done to concern Vex it reminds him, perhaps a little, of old chaotic lunches with his siblings. </p><p>In its way it’s nice, a perfectly pleasant lunch and while Keyleth may be more exuberant than he’s used to, she’s genuine and it helps tug his mind away from worry. For all he keeps half an eye on Vex’ahlia, it doesn’t consume his attention and he’s almost been able to set the worry (mostly) to one side by the time they all finish eating.</p><p>Grog and Scanlan head off first, then Pike heads off into town with Keyleth to see what can be done for the farmland and against the undead. With his two nearest companions gone, Percy sighs and runs a hand through his hair before rising. He has work to return to. </p><p>He doesn’t expect Vex at his elbow, her arm already slipping back into his. </p><p>“Are you heading back to your ledgers?” Vex asks, her tone half-teasing. He’s not sure he managed to hide how he startled at her arrival before she noticed but she gives no indication either way and he shrugs.</p><p>“It’s the most urgent task,” he says. “If I need to beat my head against them until they make sense, then beat my head against them I shall.”</p><p>“For what it’s worth,” she says slowly, perhaps hesitant, perhaps… teasing? “I’m good with numbers. Specifically, I’m good with money. Did Cass ever tell you that I’m our treasurer?”</p><p>Honestly, he and Cass have barely even spoken since she arrived in Ripley’s study with plans to overthrow the Briarwoods and he glances over to his sister, surprised. </p><p>“Vex is frugal as hell,” Cass says, shrugging in a way Mother would have scolded her for as much as the cursing. “If anyone can stretch whatever the Briarwoods have left us with to something usable, it’s Vex.”</p><p>“I-” he says, taken aback. It’s not phrased as an insult to his ability but nor is it phrased as an outright offer of help either. At the same time, Vex had seemed concerned when he mentioned the state of the Whitestone finances and she and Cass now seem in accord. And honestly, he could use the assistance. “If that’s an offer of help it would be much appreciated.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>With Vex’s help, his afternoon with the ledgers is a lot more manageable. Vex wasn’t lying when she said she had a knack for numbers, a way with money, and with her at his side helping him to make sense of Delilah’s system, time really does seem to fly. </p><p>The ledgers aren’t a mess it turns out, just kept differently to Anna’s. Once Vex helps him make sense of it he starts comparing the needs of the city to what the coffers contain while Vex sits at Delilah’s old desk, scrupulously checking every entry in case anything has been hidden.</p><p>“You could sell some of the magical items they left behind,” Vex muses, as she counts down a column. Percy glances up from his seat on the floor to look at her. “I mean, if you have no use for them, they could fetch a pretty penny. You’d probably want to go to Westruun or Emon for the best prices, but we’re going to have to speak to Uriel about the Briarwoods sooner or later.” She shrugs. “Gilmore would probably be willing to at least appraise any items you don’t want to keep and we could bring back the profits to you.”</p><p>“That might be helpful,” he says thoughtfully. “Though- I’d like to see how much money we’re earning now that whitestone trade has returned to usual. We’ve a whole mound of <em> residuum </em> below us as well, though the Lyceum might want to get a look at that before we start selling it willy-nilly.”</p><p>Vex pulls several ledgers closer to herself, flipping them open one by one and scanning through entries before laughing. “Enough,” she says. “If you can get the quarry production back to what it was.”</p><p>Percy’s pretty sure he’s looking sheepish if anything. “It might return to more,” he admits. “The Briarwoods insisted on an increased output.”</p><p>At that Vex’s smile turns almost predatory. “Well,” she says. “We’ll just have to make sure you don’t flood the market, won’t we?”</p><p>Vex’s skill in accounting is not to be sniffed at. As well as helping him make sense of the ledgers, with her aid he thinks he has a fair handle on how to input new income and expenditures for which he’s grateful. Percy had returned briefly to Anna’s chambers to make them both mugs of coffee and by the time he returned Trinket had joined them, drowsing in one corner. Conversation, as it happens, is more relaxed with the bear dozing in the corner and Vex’s feet kicked up onto the desk’s ink-blotter and Percy settles into an armchair instead of staying on the floor.</p><p>“I confess,” Percy says, gesturing with his mug to Trinket. “I rather forgot you had a bear in everything that happened. Are your accommodations adequate for- him, yes?”</p><p>Vex laughs. “Him, yes. And yes, they are. Thank you for arranging them.”</p><p>Vex’s smile is strikingly lovely and it takes Percy a moment before he finds the words to say, “I’m glad.” It takes him several moments more to speak again. “I, ah- if there’s anything you need, any of you, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”</p><p>“Oh, we will,” Vex says. It could almost be a threat were she anyone else, but she says it with a smile and a laugh that sounds genuine. Trinket doesn’t stir from where he’s curled and Percy supposes that if the bear finds nothing worrisome, he shouldn’t either. Her expression turns more serious. “How’re you doing?” she says, nodding to him. “Here you’ve been making sure we’re all settled when we went and upset whatever passed for normal for you for the past few years.”</p><p>It’s true and… surprisingly considerate of her to ask. No one’s really bothered to ask Percy how he’s doing for a while and now Vex’ahlia has checked on him twice. He’s not prepared for how it makes him feel and it takes him a moment to answer her question.</p><p>In honesty, he hasn’t really dared dwell on it much yet - he doesn’t think he can afford to with how much work and care Whitestone requires from him. There’s a lot of jobs that need doing, far more urgent than the many tasks he needs to think about, and until things are settled he doesn’t think he can really allow himself a break. There’s just too much to <em> do. </em></p><p>“I’m fine,” he says. When Vex makes a vaguely doubtful face he clarifies, “I’ll be fine. It’s, ah. It’s odd to not be working with Anna any more, which I’ll have to get used to, but I have work to do and Whitestone to take care of so everything else can wait for later.”</p><p>For a moment Vex frowns and Percy half-fears she’s going to comment as Anders did about how he throws himself into work. Cass hasn’t been hesitant to poke and prod and make her opinion heard, and the prospect of it from another source turns his stomach.</p><p>“You were fond of her,” Vex observes quietly. “Ripley.” From her, somehow, it doesn’t sound like a judgement. Doesn’t sound like Anders’ prying or Delilah’s mocking or Cass’ horror that he’d be familiar with Anna after five years with no one else to trust. It just sounds like a quiet truth, and Percy shrugs. </p><p>“Yes,” he admits. He looks down and tugs a little at his sleeves as he ponders how best to answer. “She saved my life,” he says. “More than once. She, ah. When my family was attacked she kept me safe. When the Briarwoods wanted her to hand me over and to work for them she bargained to keep me out of the cells and to keep me alive. When Anders meddled and wanted to get us in trouble she kept us both safe.” He pauses. “I’d not be here but for her and…” He makes a noise that’s almost a laugh. “It probably sounds odd to you, given everything, to know that I miss her, but… I do. I’ve grown so used to her company it’s strange not to have it any longer.”</p><p>“No,” Vex says quietly. “No, it makes perfect sense.”</p><p>For a moment it’s quiet. Vex doesn’t ask anything further - doesn’t pry, though his admission might as well be an opening if she is one such as Anders. There’s no judgement in her gaze either, nor pity, just some semblance of sympathy and understanding. In the corner Trinket huffs a breath, shifts a little in his dozing and quiets once more.</p><p>“Thank you,” Percy says softly.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“For not prying. I appreciate it.”</p><p>“Oh. Well.” Vex waves a hand expansively. “You’re like Cass, aren’t you? Figured.”</p><p>Percy pulls what he knows is a bemused face. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“You’re both very private,” Vex clarifies. “And you’re usually very… hm. Circumspect in your answers.” She shrugs. “I figured that, like her, you like to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself.” She snorts. “Can’t blame you, really. Five years with the Briarwoods can’t have been fun.”</p><p>“No,” Percy agrees with a grimace. “No it was not.”</p><p>“But you survived,” Vex points out, smiling.</p><p>“But I survived,” he agrees. “Which I think is the important bit. And I have work to do. Is there much left for today?”</p><p>“Nothing that can’t wait,” she says. “Or that you can’t figure out on your own tomorrow.”</p><p>By the time Vex’s brother comes to find them for dinner the maths is mostly done with, set to one side, and they’re talking comfortably while Trinket drowses in the corner. Percy doesn’t entirely know what to make of it, how easy he finds Vex’s company, but he certainly doesn’t mind it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dinner with Vox Machina proves to be a loud affair. For all his enjoyment of Vex’s company, for all that Keyleth has proven surprisingly easy to talk to as well, he’s not sure he’s really prepared for all of the noise and half of him wants to recoil back upstairs, to take his meals in Anna’s rooms like he always did before and stay safe away from the noise and fuss of everyone else.</p><p>But his sister is back. She has as much a right to be here as he does and with her new friends she proved powerful enough to retake Whitestone where he’d been too scared to do anything much at all. He’s not going to let them scare him from his own home and besides - he’d learned well from Anna. If you make yourself useful to the ones in power, it grants you safety.</p><p>After all of the chaos and the horror and the fear and the death, all Percy really wants is safety. With Anna gone, what little semblance of security he’d scraped together is lost to him. He can’t ignore a chance to regain even a little. </p><p>So he sits and he tries to ignore the boisterousness as he eats.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After dinner things seem to quieten. It’s only as the noise level lowers that Percy sees how tired everyone seems to be. Even the huge goliath is slumped in his armchair when they retire to the old drawing room with a few bottles of wine, the remaining gnome sat on a footstool and playing a tune on a small flute that sounds almost like a lullaby. Pike, apparently, had departed for good earlier in the day.</p><p>It’s… still strange, to sit with them all. He’s used to quieter company, to Anna reading in her chair while he read or sketched in his, the ease that came from knowing his exact place in it all. He doesn’t know his place here and he doesn’t like it. The wine, instead of making company easier, threatens to curdle his stomach.</p><p>“Rebuilding effort is going well,” Vax says, nodding to Keyleth in the quiet. “You’ve got the fields and forest flourishing, Grog helped with hauling away some of the wrecked masonry.”</p><p>“Beat whatshisface-” Grog mumbles. “Gore-man.”</p><p>“Goran,” Vex says. “Vedmeyer.”</p><p>“Him.”</p><p>It takes Percy a moment to place the name; he’d had so little to do with the new nobles that while he could put a face to a name he’d had little cause to do so. Vedmeyer though, he remembers after the judgements the day before. He was the only one of the Briarwoods’ remaining supporters to choose a life of penance over summary execution - which reminds him of one face he hasn’t seen.</p><p>“Do we know what happened to Professor Anders?” he asks. “The last I saw of him, the Briarwoods had him dragged down to the cells with the implication they were going to kill him. I never learned if they did.”</p><p>No one replies. Grog is half-asleep, Scanlan practicing his fingering where he sits on his footstool. When Percy glances to his sister for clarification she’s pulling a face he’s seen only rarely before. He never liked the look of it.</p><p>“The cells were empty,” Vex says quietly. “He was there when we came in - he didn’t wake. But he wasn’t in the cells when Vax and Cass checked properly earlier today and his body wasn’t recovered amongst any of the undead or other corpses.” She shrugs. “He’s gone.”</p><p>“Oh,” Percy says weakly. He blinks once. “Oh dear.”</p><p>There is no Anna to protect him. Not anymore. By his own hand, even. But- it’s Anders. Anders is free. Anders is god knows where. </p><p>“Oh no,” he says again. This is not good. Were Anna still here he might have some hope: she’d managed to not only fend Anders off but see the man imprisoned. He’s not sure if she had him implicated in something or simply found evidence of pre-existing guilt. It doesn’t matter. She had managed to deal with Anders.</p><p>And that falls to him, now.</p><p>“I should go,” he says, rising. “At the least the guards should be notified.”</p><p>He leaves before he can see anyone’s expressions, out the door and down the hall to find the office of the guard captain. The air in the halls is cool - the front doors are left wide open even this late at night, in case anyone from town needs urgent help - and it’s bracing as he makes his way through familiar halls. </p><p>He wishes Cass had said something sooner. Why <em> hadn’t </em> she? Who knows what kind of a lead Anders has on them now, what he might have prepared. There was a reason he’d always told Anna as soon as possible when anything went wrong; he wishes Cass had had the presence of mind to forewarn him.</p><p>He almost wishes he hadn’t left the others in order to warn the guards. Without Anna’s near proximity, even with the Briarwoods gone, his home feels unsafe; if Anders lingers it would make him an easy target.</p><p>Still. He makes it to the guard captain’s office without trouble. When he explains the situation the man’s face pales; messages are sent off in short notice and soon there’s the almost comforting sound of armoured bodies in the halls. Percy lets out a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.</p><p>He shouldn’t go for a walk. Not until Anders is caught. But he needs fresh air, needs to clear his head. After Anna’s death, he’s not sure work would do the job.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Vex’ahlia manages to find him a little under an hour later. He hasn’t moved much from where he finally walked himself to a standstill, looking out over the Parchwood from the high rise that surrounds the castle. Here, at this edge, the wind is especially cold and cutting where it sweeps down from the mountains that half-ring them - Percy suspects there’s snow on the way if he’s any judge - and the chill has helped to cut through the panic. </p><p>He just wishes that they could find Anders and have done; the idea of him being loose does not bring Percy any kind of comfort.</p><p>Vex is a pressureless presence and after most of a day with her he’s largely stopped being surprised by that. She doesn’t try to sneak up on him but being made aware of her presence never feels like it’s matched with some expectation. He suspects that, when it comes down to it, she appreciates quiet time on one’s own just as much as he does.</p><p>“Go on, Trinket!” she calls before moving to join him by the wall. “Do your business!”</p><p>In the corner of his eye, Percy makes out the dim shape of Trinket’s bulky form ambling through the garden towards some likely-looking bushes. When he glances in the other direction, Vex stands there, looking out over the forest just as he is, her arms braced against the stone balustrade. </p><p>She doesn’t look at him. If he wasn’t so painfully aware that no one does anything for no reason, he’d almost think she wasn’t paying him any attention at all. But she has to be, on some level. He’d rushed out with little warning and she’s not exactly been unwilling to check on him before for all that they’re strangers.</p><p>“I apologise for absenting myself so abruptly.”</p><p>He hears a noise that he thinks might almost be a laugh. </p><p>“Under the circumstances,” Vex’ahlia says. “I think it was quite understandable.” </p><p>They fall to quiet again. Trinket’s still ambling in the far corner of the garden, sniffing and searching for a suitable place to do his business before bed and there’s only the soft sound of the nocturnal birds and the slight whistling of the wind, the rustling of the leaves. It’s peaceful and, with company he feels relatively safe with, Percy finally starts to relax.</p><p>“Are you all right?” Vex asks quietly. “Given- well.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he says. She makes a sound that might almost be scoffing, but when he glances at her there’s nothing mocking or teasing in her expression. If anything, he might guess that she understands. “I’ve done what I can for now,” he clarifies. “That will have to suffice. Forgive me if I’m not around much for the next few days; I’m going to have a lot to check on.”</p><p>“You think he’ll return to interfere?”</p><p>“I have no idea,” he admits. “Anders always…well, he kept his business to himself. I have no idea what he’d do, left to his own devices.”</p><p>Vex purses her lips and Percy feels a thrill of fear - she’s disappointed in him again, just like earlier in the day, and Cass will be told how much a let down he is, how useless, how much a failure. He doesn’t want to know how Cass will respond this time; he suspects a second failure will not be met with such kindnesses as Vex’ahlia’s continued presence.</p><p>“Is there anything we can do?” she asks, instead of any such thing. She gestures, her expression surprisingly open, genuinely concerned. Percy doesn’t know what to make of it. “We’ll have to go back to Emon eventually but while we’re here… is there anything we can help with? I can track, Keyleth can scry. I know Cass wants him dead.”</p><p>“I-” He blinks at her, too taken aback to really have any response. “If you could, that would be phenomenal,” he says. “Even if only to ascertain if he’s stayed here or headed off.”</p><p>“We can do that,” Vex says, nodding. “Anything else?”</p><p>“I-” He pauses. Thinks out what little he does know, of what little magic he’d seen Anders work in passing. “No, I don’t think so. I’d recognise Anders’ handwriting if he were to try to ingratiate himself or any allies here again and I don’t think any of you but Cass would know his face. But- watch yourselves. He was capable with charms if not so much as Sylas and he- he was the reason the Briarwoods managed to get themselves invited here in the first place.”</p><p>Vex’s expression turns almost cold. “I see,” she says, something fierce in her voice. “We’ll keep an eye out,” she promises. “We won’t be letting Whitestone come to harm if we can help it. Not as long as we’re here.”</p><p>His lips quirk into a smile at that, if only briefly. When seriousness returns, Vex’ahlia leans over to elbow his side. </p><p>“Besides,” she adds. “Cass fought hard to get back here and reclaim Whitestone. We’ll probably all be returning here every now and again if only so she can visit. We’ll help keep your home safe.”</p><p>
  <em> Your home.</em>
</p><p>It is that, now, isn’t it? Not the place in which he lives, not his family home. <em> His. </em> His duty to protect and preserve and manage, that he’d accepted easily enough but… his home too, now the Briarwoods are gone and can no longer stake any kind of claim on it. It’s more comforting to hear it said aloud than he thinks Vex knows. The knowledge that Cass plans to return, to come back every now and again to check on things, that worries him, but… Whitestone is his home. His responsibility. There is something comforting in that.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says. “After- well, after everything, having people willing to help means a lot.”</p><p>Vex’s smile, when she turns it on him, is soft and lovely and more honest than the occasionally teasing or flirtatious smiles he’s seen her give in what little time he’s known her. “Of course, darling,” she says. Then she leans, looking past him, her expression shifting to something else. “Aww, buddy. All done?”</p><p><em> “Mrurh,” </em> goes the bear, pacing past Percy to nuzzle at Vex’s shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah,” Vex says. “Bedtime, buddy? Been a long day.”</p><p>The bear <em> mrurh </em>’s again, slower and more lowly where he leans against Vex’s shoulder. It honestly reminds Percy of his younger siblings when they were still toddlers - fractious and wanting sleep but without the words to clearly express themselves. He almost doesn’t notice Vex glancing over to him. </p><p>“Are you going to come inside?” she asks. “You’ll freeze out here.”</p><p>It’s not <em> that </em> chilly out, but… certainly, staying out much longer probably isn’t wise. He can already feel his fingers going stiff against the cold stone of the railing.</p><p>“All right,” he says, offering Vex’ahlia his arm. “And, ah- thank you.”</p><p>Vex’s arm loops through his, her head tilting as she looks up at him. “Darling,” she says. “It’s very sweet of you, but you really don’t have to thank us for everything.”</p><p>“Maybe not,” he says. Best, he knows, to be diplomatic. He could certainly be rude if he wished but not now, not with these people and certainly not with Vex, after all the kindness she’s offered. He appreciates what little kindness she’s shown too much to ever be rude about it. “But so far everything you’ve done has been worth being thankful for.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As before I'll be posting every Monday with a new chapter until this is done! Please leave comments if you enjoyed this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Are you avoiding us?”</p><p>“Vex’ahlia,” he says. “I- not intentionally, let me assure you.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A warning! This chapter contains smut. If that's not your thing please stop reading at around <i>"before she moves to work on the buttons.".</i> It's safe to read again at <i>"stroking down his back.</i>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day dawns foggy, a heavy mist rising off the river and settling over the town. From his bedroom window the town is half-hidden, roofs poking through here and there, barely visible with the distance and cloud cover. Only the Sun Tree rises above it all, its topmost branches reaching for the sky and the distant sun. The fog is thinner on the castle’s rise but it’s still present. The sun is clear above them though for all the air is still cold enough to send spirals of ice along the window-panes, and it feels… normal, unlike the oppressive misery of the Briarwoods’ occupation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy washes his face and dresses quickly. Sleep had not come easily; several times in the night he’d woken, turning in his half-aware state to try to find Anna’s warm presence and the familiar comfort of it. He’s functioned on less sleep though, and so he heads downstairs, downs one mug of coffee before even touching his breakfast and pours himself a third one before heading back upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t escape his notice that Cassandra is absent. The only other early riser is Vex’ahlia, Trinket at her side, but though they exchange smiles and pleasantries, she leaves him to the stack of correspondence he’d gathered from Delilah’s office the day before. He appreciates the space as much as he’d appreciate the pleasant distraction of her company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work is tiring. It is not the work Percy is used to and while he could, he supposes, take a break and check on the labs, there’s hardly any point. Most of the experiments have run their course now, and even if they hadn’t, there’s no Anna to report them to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t know how he feels about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets his unclear feelings to one side. His current work has priority. He has letters to write - to ask the priesthood of Pelor in Vasselheim to send a replacement for the late Father Reynal, to send to Emon to explain the occupation of the Briarwoods, to confirm that Whitestone is back in de Rolo hands and to renew allegiance oaths broken by the Briarwoods’ treachery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has letters to send to Turst too, though locals are already making their way down the Parchwood road to get trade moving once more, and sailors are heading down the Mooren to Drynna to start trading whitestone again. He’s half tempted to see about trading some </span>
  <em>
    <span>residuum</span>
  </em>
  <span> too, but suspects he should send a separate bevy of letters to the Lyceum in Emon or the Cobalt Soul in Westruun and allow those with some measure of arcane skill to assess it first - and to see about having the teleportation sigil repaired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ziggurat needs reporting too, and investigating. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whispered One</span>
  </em>
  <span> is an apt epithet for the Briarwoods’ shadowy lord: few seem to know anything about him, even those who’ve spent the past five years under the Briarwoods’ thumbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He misses lunch working but at least manages to make it downstairs for dinner. Percy has few certainties left these days with how quickly things have changed; with Anna, his one point of certainty, dead at his hand - but he knows he enjoys the company at least of Vex’ahlia. He finds her presence more reassuring than he does most else - even Cass, these days - and it makes seeing her that evening a decided highlight of his day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emerged at last?” she asks, smiling and half teasing, but nothing mocking or cruel to her gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Far too much work,” he says. “I apologise, I got caught up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others mostly don’t appear to have noticed his absence at all. He’s not sure if he should be grateful or concerned as he takes a seat and Keyleth pushes what appears to be a tureen of stew in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How were your days?” he asks as he doles himself a portion. “Anything interesting happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We tried to track Anders,” Vex says, tilting her head to indicate Keyleth, her expression shading into annoyance. “No bloody luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got a glimpse of him somewhere in the woods when I tried to scry,” Keyleth says. “But we didn’t know any of the landmarks. We found some footprints, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hours old,” Vex says. “And the rain this afternoon wrecked the scent for Trinket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we don’t know where he is,” Percy says. He tries not to let his hands tremble as he sets the stew dish aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looked like he was heading away,” Vex says, which is some little relief. “But he could just be planning to loop back around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be like Anders to wait for people to think themselves safe before attempting much the same trick again. It was how the Professor had handled every conversation with Percy, after all. Percy’s appetite withers away as he stares at his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says, shaking himself from his thoughts and looking Vex and Keyleth each in the eye. “Thank you for at least trying. It means a great deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll keep an eye out,” Keyleth says, something earnest to her voice that makes it almost a promise. “We-” she gestures at herself and Vex “-saw his face when I scried, so we can recognise him too now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is at least something. And, as Anna would sometimes say, something is at least better than nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he says again. He tries, as best he’s able, to convey just how much he means it. “Hopefully he really is gone. But until we can be sure-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll scry again tomorrow,” Keyleth says. When both Percy and Vex blink at her she shrugs. “I mean, at least we can try to find out if he really is heading further away, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d appreciate that,” Percy says, once he has the presence of mind for words again. “That’s- thank you, Keyleth. I- thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you,” Vex says smiling, her foot nudging his under the table. “You don’t have to thank us for every little thing. We want Whitestone to be as safe and protected as you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>For all Percy’s fear, the next few days are quiet. He wonders if he should worry at that - quiet usually only meant something ominous waiting in the wings before but… the peace, such as it is, lasts and his work isn’t interrupted and things are… improving. He’s still busy with paperwork more often than not: further negotiations with Turst and Drynna over trade, letters sent off to various noble families that dwelt within the Parchwood - letters even to some of the cadet branches that might have survived, as much to ascertain if they did as to ask why they never laid claim to Whitestone themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like the idea that they let the Briarwoods take over rule, but he knows altogether too well the power of Sylas’ charm, of Delilah’s enchantments. He wants to see whatever rift may have been made mended now, though it may well take time yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that the sheer amount of work leads to him passing by or just missing his sister and most of her friends is mostly a coincidence. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you avoiding us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a few days later and Vex has found him in the library. He’s sat at a desk, three opened books and a multitude of letters strewn across it as he tries to figure out exactly how to start bringing Whitestone back to what it once was. Some of this is obvious: chase out corruption, restart trade, increase the rebuilding efforts. Other parts less so - he really has no idea what the process is for finding a replacement for Father Reynal and it seems Vasselheim’s priesthoods are vague on the details as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances up and sees her, half hidden in shadows and almost as quiet as her brother and his sister. It would be enough to make him jump but for the sheer number of times Lord Briarwood had done much the same, and Percy knows he had far more reason to be frightened by Sylas Briarwood than of Vex’ahlia of Vox Machina.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex’ahlia,” he says. “I- not intentionally, let me assure you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cass hasn’t seen much of you,” she says. “And you’re rarely at dinner with us. Perhaps I’m mistaken but it is the duty of the host to ensure his guests are doing well, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” he agrees. “Sadly, it is also the duty of a Lord of Whitestone to tend to the wellbeing of the city. I truly don’t intend to neglect you all, but there’s so much to do.” He gestures at his paperwork, then looks apologetically back to Vex. “Honestly, I’ve no idea how my father managed it, nor how Julius expected to. There’s far more work than I ever expected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex is watching him again, the same as when she’d found him on the tower. Quietly observant but still watchful, more aware than he knows what to do with. “You’re allowed to take time for yourself,” she says gently. “Don’t you ever do anything to relax or unwind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses at that, blinks. “Not particularly,” he admits. “The last few years, well. If I wasn’t busy I wasn’t being useful and if I wasn’t useful I was hardly going to be let live. I wasn’t going to put Anna to more trouble by being useless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrows rise, clearly doubtful, and he glances back down to the paperwork on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to copy out notes in neat,” he says softly. “When there wasn’t much left to do at the end of day. It helped to keep things organised and it was-” He sighs. “It was soothing.” He gestures over the desk. “Unfortunately I can hardly do that here. I can’t keep any of the experiments going even, there’s hardly any point. So no. Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing else?” Vex asks. “There must be something you did for fun, for the pleasure of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no innuendo in her voice, just quiet curiosity, but it doesn’t stop the brief burn of embarrassment at the back of his neck, doesn’t keep him from glancing away from her face and back to his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aha,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says, and he can almost hear the smile in her voice, not mocking or prying but perhaps a little teasing. “So there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> something. So why not do it now? You can’t only work - you’ll work yourself to death this way and I hardly think Cass wants to lose the brother she just regained.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he agrees. “But it’s-” He cuts himself off. It was never something spoken of, his relationship with Anna. Even between themselves it had been quiet, carefully spoken </span>
  <em>
    <span>around,</span>
  </em>
  <span> rather than directly indicated and even before everything, well- you didn’t speak of intimate acts. You just </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he can feel the flush crawling up his neck. “It was not something done alone,” he settles on. “And the company I’d usually seek for it is no longer around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while there’s silence. When he finally looks up to meet Vex’s gaze there’s understanding in her eyes, her smile more of a knowing smirk but not unkind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could always seek new company,” she suggests, and the smile is back, the teasing note to her voice. He’s not sure when or how this familiarity sprang up - perhaps that day she’d talked to him on the tower, convinced him to join the others and cease dwelling in melancholy - but he finds himself fighting back a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going down into the town and seeing if any of Julius’ old haunts are still around,” Percy says. “I hardly even know where they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were,</span>
  </em>
  <span> even assuming any of them weathered the storm that was the Briarwoods, and they’re not exactly my idea of fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I was suggesting.” Vex’s smile is still in place, if a little wider, and she leans back against the bookshelf behind her. Her eyes move over him, assessing, the smile becomes more inviting, and Percy can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself flush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” He pauses, not wanting to misread the situation, not entirely knowing if this is even an invitation he should accept - but he’s not opposed. If anything, the opposite. Vex has been kind and strangely welcoming to him and he enjoys her company, especially as she’s been so deft about turning back unwanted questions. He’s no doubt she’ll turn him back if he’s misreading this but he doesn’t think he is - in this, at least, she’s far easier to read than Anna ever was. “All right,” he says, smiling. “How would you suggest going about it then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No ideas of your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In this, just as with accounting, I shall bow to your superior wisdom,” he says sincerely. “Past experiences involved little discussion </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.” He gestures. “What would you advise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Privacy, for starters,” she says, stepping away from the bookshelf and offering him her hand. He barely thinks before accepting it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paperwork, he decides, can definitely wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My rooms are nearby,” he says, gently tucking her hand over his arm. “And I believe most everyone else is out in town.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy moves her quickly through the corridors, clearly familiar with them all, and he directs them to his room with ease. There’s a smile on his face, not as confidently charming as Vex has sometimes seen and perhaps a little nervous but it’s genuine nonetheless, and when he shuts his door behind them she turns, cups his jaw, kisses his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s fun to talk to, Percival et cetera et cetera de Rolo, and he’s sincere for all his noble standing, not looking down on them at all that she’s noticed, and he’s not hard to look at at all. There are far worse people to get off with for fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stills for a moment at the press of her lips to his cheek, startled but - if she’s to guess from the blush on his neck and ears - pleased, before leaning in to press his lips to hers. For all his nervousness he’s confident here, mouth steady and tongue firm as it gently licks her lower lip. She hums and presses closer to him and he does likewise, taking a further step into the room, forcing her to step back and back and back. Her hands find his hips, find the waistband of his trousers just as his fingers slip softly under her shirt hem, slip slightly between her leggings and the skin of her hips. She tugs at the fabric in her hands and, once it’s loose, slides her hands over the skin of his abdomen, feels his muscles twitch in surprise at her touch, before she moves to work on the buttons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Direct,” he says, huffed out in a smiling breath against her lips and she hums again, pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like you’re not,” she points out. “And not like you’re complaining, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at that, mutters “True, true,” as he nuzzles at her neck, tugging slightly at her shirt hem up, up, up, until she tugs it off herself and his hands, long-fingered and deft, splay over her chest, trailing over skin and scars and teasing now at her breastband. He steps closer again and she steps back; her legs hit what must be a table or a desk. With one hand she checks the surface - clear - before she hops up onto it, hooking one leg around his and pulling him closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shirt hangs loose around his shoulders, unbuttoned. He’s without the waistcoat he sometimes wears, without the ascot, usual formal clothes pared down to something simple, almost workaday. When she grips the collar of his shirt, tugging it back as he’d tugged hers, he sheds it without fuss, immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips are warm on hers, teasing, but move quickly - jaw, neck, shoulder, fleeting and soft, briefly sucking but careful, never so much as might leave a mark and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost-ness</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it, almost what she wants but not quite, leaves a line of sensitised skin down her body as he moves. His hands are warm at her hips, tugging gently at her leggings, at the underwear beneath and it’s a simple matter to lift herself briefly with her hands so he can tug them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips find her stomach. Her hipbone. Trail along the line of the bone onto soft, sensitive skin and she gasps and shivers, grinning, reaching with one of her hands to his hair as the other braces against the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no trace of nervousness to his movements now, as he kneels between her legs, hands splayed across the insides of her thighs, lips pressing down the crease between leg and hip until they reach curls, one hand moving from her leg, long fingers sliding deftly against her, gathering slickness she’d only half-realised had gathered so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does not expect his mouth on her when it happens, too lost in the sensation of his fingers against her, sliding carefully, repeating whatever makes her breath hitch. His mouth is a warm addition and it startles a moan from her, his lips brushing over her skin as his tongue licks and tastes, his fingers sliding back, slipping down, careful but purposeful until they press in and her head tilts back, her hand tightens in his hair and he groans at that, audibly, the vibration of it shooting through her. She moves her hand through his hair again, tugs at the strands and, yes, he groans again before redoubling his efforts, fingers sliding out and in, twisting, searching, his tongue circling her clit and sucking and her hips jerk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says, “There, just like that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He listens. His hands move, his mouth moves, fingers finding the same spot with surprising skill, his mouth not letting up one bit and she’s trembling as she lifts one leg and then the other to drape over his shoulders. He doesn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that, darling,” she manages, shifting just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes no complaint at the change of angle, adjusting readily with a muffled noise against her, a kiss pressed fleetingly to the crease of her hip. His hand still left on her leg helps adjust their position, his thumb skimming over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and with that, with his fingers moving, with his mouth sucking and licking, with that little brush of his thumb over her skin her hips jerk and she comes, clenching around his fingers, her too-sensitive skin trembling as her legs pull him close, as he doesn’t stop, only groaning again as her hand tightens reflexively in his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” she says, half a gasp because he’s still going, still licking, and she tugs his hair to pull him back. He stops without a word, head tilted back to look up at her, leaning a little against her thigh as he licks his lips, cleaning up the utter mess she’s made of his face.</span>
</p><p><span>She’s still breathing hard. For that matter, so’s he, and with all the lingering energy, the adrenaline, she almost laughs because </span><em><span>god</span></em><span>,</span> <span>this was meant to be for him to blow off steam as much as fun for her and if anything he’s going to be more wound up than before, now.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Good?” she asks. “Are you-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, smiling, eyes half closed, tilting his face to press a damp kiss to her thigh. She combs her fingers through his hair and he leans into the touch, eyes closing fully behind his glasses. They’re slightly fogged up, clearing bit by bit as they stay there and breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all right?” she asks after a while, after both their breathing has slowed, and he nods. “Your turn?” she suggests. “This was meant to be to help </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums, presses another kiss to her thigh and she can feel the muscle twitch, skin still sensitive. “We don’t have to,” he says. “I don’t want to impose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percival,” she says, firmly. His eyes open, darting to her face. “I suggested this. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.” She slides her other leg off him, reaches out to find his shoulder, arm, and his hand takes hers so she can tug him up. With her legs positioned as they are it’s easy to tug him closer, with how she’d loosened his trousers before she can feel him against her. He lets out a small, soft noise as she shifts against him, still sat on the edge of the desk, and her hands come to rest on his hips, on the waistband of his trousers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to?” she asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not really an answer how his face falls forwards, lips seeking hers, his hand rising to find her jaw but it might as well be. He presses closer, and when she moves to push his trousers down his free hand joins hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s hard and firm and warm against her without his trousers in the way and </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all times he seems hesitant, after he’s already buried his face in her cunt and brought her to climax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” she says against his lips, kissing between words. “Come on. Your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body is tense against hers, wound like a spring as he presses in, and it’s been too soon since her own last climax to be close now, but she pulls him closer, kisses, shifts her hips so as to match to his thrusts. He’s trembling already, wound up, she suspects, by everything before, sensitised, and when she digs her nails into his back to pull him close his breath hitches, his hips stutter in their rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does not take long before he trembles, shudders, comes to a stuttering halt within her, face buried against her neck and so muffling the soft sound he made. She can feel his breaths though, still fast against her shoulder, feel the edges of his glasses against her skin and she settles for stroking his hair, stroking down his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” he says, panting but she can hear the smile in his voice. “Are a most generous lover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” she says, tone mock-scolding. “I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair</span>
  </em>
  <span> one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at that, head shaking, before pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Generous,” he says again. “Thank you.” There’s a pause where she can almost hear him chewing words over. “You were right,” he says eventually. “I needed that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she says. “Here’s hoping next time you need to unwind you remember to do so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs at that, and when she pulls back to look at him he pulls back too, giving her space. There’s a slight flush of pink across his cheekbones, but that’s as likely from the exertion as embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says, catching his hand, and he startles but squeezes back when she does. “Really. Don’t overwork yourself. If you need to unwind, then do so. Find someone. Find </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses a moment, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the knuckles of her hand. “Is that-” he says hesitantly. “Is that an </span>
  <em>
    <span>offer?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes answering questions with a question is far more useful than a direct answer and Vex smiles. “Would you like it to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t laugh at the question, which she’d thought he might. Instead he looks curious, cautious, perhaps a little hopeful. Thoughtful, definitely. “I-” he says. “I- yes, I think so. I do enjoy your company a great deal, and this was-” He pauses again, clearly trying to figure out what to say. Given how he dodged around discussing anything outright earlier, Vex suspects he’s as formal about these kinds of things as Cass can be and he’s consistently been polite, rarely daring to presume anything more than what’s offered. “This was extremely enjoyable. And, as I said, you were right. So, ah, yes. If you’re offering your company for this in future, I’d really rather like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” she says. “Then next time you need to unwind, come and find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The colour in his cheeks has darkened a bit and it’s kind of adorable really, and more than a little flattering. He nods, though, and smiles, something genuinely charming to it and almost sweet, despite the fact they’re both still mostly undressed. “All right,” he says. “Any preferences for ah- future rendezvous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure how he keeps managing to surprise her, strange sincerity and seriousness and sweetness all by turns. There’s a dusting of pink on his cheeks still, a tint to the tips of his ears despite what they’ve just done, but he sounds as sincere as ever in the question and she pauses to give it due consideration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bed, maybe,” she says with a smile. “Not that this wasn’t fun, but this-” She taps the table with her free hand, “Is not the most comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percival barks a laugh, genuine, unexpected, but it just makes her smile more. “Very fair,” he says, then nods at a door to one side. “I suppose now is not the time to admit that there’s a perfectly comfortable bed through there, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swats his arm lightly for that, but laughs too. “Useful for future reference,” she says and hops off the desk at last. A sturdy piece of furniture it clearly is, to not have creaked once during it all, but hardly comfortable. Quickly she leans in, presses another kiss to Percy’s cheek. The flush, starting to fade on his cheeks, comes back full force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She suspects that, just like Cass, Percy’s not used to open displays of affection. Possibly even </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to it. But- he doesn’t seem to mind it, doesn’t seem to want her to stop. His hand is still comfortably warm in hers, fingers twined around her own and himself clearly pleased with the contact. He doesn’t say anything when she starts to gather her clothes together before casting about for something to at least wipe some of the sweat and all off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go through,” he says, nodding at the door as he follows suit in pulling together clothes. “There’s a washbasin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him another kiss for that, the simple consideration, and by the time she emerges, dressed once more, he’s likewise pulled himself together and stands waiting by the door. She spots what looks like a spare ascot resting dampened over the neck of the ewer on the sideboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back to work?” she says. “Or are you going to take a break?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would say work,” he replies. “But you’re not wrong that I’ve rather been neglecting you all. Would you do me the honour of joining me for lunch? I know it’s rather late but I completely forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Late</span>
  </em>
  <span> is an understatement - from the light from the windows Vex would estimate it’s almost three - but Percy is as sincere as ever, the pink to his cheeks mostly faded away and his smile soft and genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s good company, Vex has decided, in multiple ways, and they walk downstairs arm in arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You loved her,” Vex says. All right, she can run with that answer. Love means different things to different people, love means different things when fearful and under pressure. “Did she love you, darling?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It becomes something of a pattern. Perhaps it shouldn’t. It was one thing with Anna when they were both under the thumbs of the Briarwoods. Percy does not think his parents would begrudge someone what little comfort or happiness or even love they might find when in such a situation. But he is free now and while it is comfort of a kind he finds with Vex and it is certainly something he enjoys and which, in its way, makes him happy… he is not in the same situation now. He doesn’t need it, truly, but he enjoys it, this closeness with Vex. </p><p>It helps that she is kind and that she doesn’t seek to judge him. That she has a knack with everyone from Cassandra’s little band of friends, more than able to deflect questions when someone starts prying. And… conversation with her is easy, comfortable in a way he has little experience with excepting Anna - or perhaps that is why it is comfortable. She’s sharp enough to pick up his leaps in conversation, even when she doesn’t understand what it is he’s talking about she’s clever enough to get the idea and she’s helpful too, whenever the damned ledgers start driving him around the bend. Vex’ahlia has a way with numbers he cannot help but admire and he’s honestly half-tempted to ask her to become the official Whitestone treasurer.</p><p>The fact it would give her a permanent position in the castle is something he tries very hard not to think too much about.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy seeks her out more days than not and not, it seems, solely for sex. He seeks her for advice and company and conversation just as much, seeming to prefer her to… well, any of the others at least. It’s almost flattering in its way, though with all of Vex’s experience with posh pricks she’s not entirely willing to take it solely in good faith. </p><p>She’s known enough people who’ll speak sweetly for a pretty bedmate and help with their studies only to cast her aside. She knows she shouldn’t expect Percy to be any different - but he is at times charming, often unexpectedly earnest and sincere, and he seems, unlike so many others, to take her seriously. It’s honestly rather nice to be given so much respect without any fuss, as though it’s simply her due. Even in Emon they’ve had to push for it at times, even since saving the Sovereign. Percy taking it as given is delightfully refreshing.</p><p>She doesn’t mind how adept Percy becomes at finding her, poking his head into the dining room or the corner of the library she prefers with a relieved expression.</p><p>“Ah, there you are,” he says, as though pleasantly surprised each time. “Vex’ahlia - I wonder, could I borrow you for a moment?”</p><p>He never says it like an order or an expectation, always as a request. The times she asks for a few moments to finish up what she’s doing he always replies, “Of course,” and comes back some ten or twenty minutes later, often bearing coffee.</p><p>“Anyone might think you’re trying to win me over,” she jokes, as she accepts the mug one such day. “You’re so nice to me.”</p><p>“Perhaps I am,” Percy says. “Without you I’d have no idea where to start with rebuilding.”</p><p>“Ah,” she says, lifting her mug in mock toast. “Don’t anger the accountant.”</p><p><em> “Never </em> anger the accountant,” he agrees, smiling. “It’s a roundly terrible idea.”</p><p>There’s humour to his voice but his expression is sincere for all his smile; she’s not entirely sure what to make of it but he’s not given her any cause to doubt it, really. Like Cassandra, for all his poshness and propriety, he doesn’t appear prone to lying or weaselling his way out of saying things; he’s honest with those people he spends time with and it shows. Even Cass, when she has asked, has said that Percy isn’t prone to lying. Perhaps that’s why Vex starts gifting him small kisses so quickly.</p><p>Cheek kisses she gives out often enough, easy affection on her terms, but Percy reacts to the first one outside of their little rendezvous in a way she doesn’t expect: pink and blushing and endearingly affected, more like a stuttering schoolboy with a crush than his usual more confident self.</p><p>It’s kind of cute and perhaps that’s part of why occasional kisses and increased affection eventually leads to a few meetings meant to double check the accounts turning into make-out sessions. </p><p>Vex isn’t complaining. He’s not half-bad and after the stress of the uprising and with the rebuilding, more excuses to unwind are appreciated.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s halfway through the last week before Winter’s Crest itself, when they all will have to make a decision on when and how to head back to Emon, that it happens. Technically they’re supposed to be looking over the ledgers one last time, making sure Percy absolutely understands Delilah’s old (awful, in Vex’s opinion) system and Vex’s newer, simpler one, but by this point he mostly does; Vex is pretty sure this is mostly him finding an excuse to spend time with her. She doesn’t expect just how flattering she finds that.</p><p>She’s not entirely sure <em> why </em> he’s so keen to spend time with her outside of what they do to blow off steam but she’s not going to complain when he’s as good at kissing as he is glib conversation. </p><p>His lips are warm on hers, his tongue probing but never invasive and he seems attentive to what cues she gives, responding rapidly. His hand is gentle on her hip and honestly it’s just <em> nice </em> to have a partner who cares enough to take the time to do things right.</p><p>“Mm,” she hums, pulling back from the kiss. “You’re good at this, Percy.”<br/><br/>He chuckles a little as he lets her have space, shrugging one shoulder. “I <em> have </em> had practice,” he reminds her. There’s a small smile to his face, almost self-deprecating. <br/><br/>“Mm.” Vex hums in agreement; he has said as much before but she’s still curious. “With who? You never said.” <br/><br/>For a moment his smile falters. Then it fades. It strikes Vex, the oddity of it. Percy’s glib and confident and even if more often serious than cheerful, he’s never been… he’s never been like this, not with her. <br/><br/>“Percy?” she asks. She tilts her head, lays her hand on his. “It’s all right, I’ll hardly be jealous.” And then, as the smile remains gone and the pause lingers, she gently touches his cheek. He’s never yet said who it was he used to spend such time with and she wonders if she’s touched a nerve by asking.</p><p><em> God, </em> she thinks with a start. Given the uprising they could be dead.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me,” she promises. “If you’d rather not.”<br/><br/>He leans into her touch. He does tend to, she’s noticed. Eyes half closed and head tilted so he can press a kiss to her palm. <br/><br/>“Anna,” he says, after a while, and it’s as quiet as a breath. “There was one before, because I wanted to see what all of the fuss was about.” He scoffs a little, some brief semblance of humour. “And then there was Anna.” <br/><br/>It shouldn’t be the surprise that it is. Cass had seemed shocked that Percy would be so familiar with Ripley, but he’d spent five years working with the woman once his tutor. That he’d use her name and trust her and be close to her are all not that surprising. But Cass had seemed sure that it was more than that and other evidence had mounted up. Percy’s chambers, she’s seen during their rendezvous, are largely unused, many of his things left in the lab below or strewn throughout Ripley’s. Keyleth had said it was a likely consequence of late night study, of forced proximity, but even she seemed doubtful. The twins had shared a knowing look. <br/><br/>Percy has been quiet on the topic, though. Unwilling to share. They’ve hardly pushed. Even Cass has preferred quiet and calm to demanding every secret of her brother. They’ve all made <em> guesses </em> about him and Anna Ripley even if not all of them dared believe this possibility entirely. <br/><br/>Not a one of them expected him to admit it. Not after he’d killed her. <br/><br/>His eyes are still half-closed, breaths almost tremulous where they gust over her palm - but he’s still leaning into her touch as though it anchors him, helps him. As slowly and gently as she would with a spooked animal, Vex draws her thumb over Percy’s lips. Trails her fingers up his cheek. <br/><br/>“Percy,” she says softly, “Are you all right?” <br/><br/>He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t open his eyes. He just shakes his head against her palm. She strokes her thumb over his cheek and waits. Watches. </p><p>Eventually Percy draws in a long breath. He presses another kiss to her palm. It’s not the first time he’s done it but usually that’s been after one of their little meetings. He’s affectionate then, nuzzling and borderline needy with affection before he returns to normal. She doesn’t entirely know what to make of it in this context, but his eyes open and he <em> seems </em> calm. <br/><br/>“You cared about her,” Vex says. It’s the only obvious conclusion. Besides - who wouldn’t care about someone after five years with them, no matter what else they’d done? Caring was the nature of people. <br/><br/>“I loved her,” Percy corrects. “And I killed her anyway. Make of that what you will.” <br/><br/>Vex <em> doesn’t </em> know what to make of it. She blinks at the information, too startled to easily make sense of it; that Percy had affection for Ripley had been obvious, was understandable. There were plenty of indications he likely shared her bed even beyond what little he’s admitted to her and they’d spent five years together, working for the Briarwoods. Trust was expected, closeness was expected… but that he’d <em> loved </em>her- </p><p>She’s not sure if she can quite believe it. She’s not sure, if it’s true, how he’s managed to avoid turning into a complete wreck.</p><p>Percy seems earnest, though, and gently, she strokes his cheek again. “You loved her,” she says. All right, she can run with that answer. Love means different things to different people, love means different things when fearful and under pressure. “Did she love you, darling?”</p><p>For a while he doesn’t say anything. His eyes go half closed again, looking down at a small patch of ground as though to shrink the world. Cass does the same thing, sometimes, when she’s trying to stay calm. Vex’s hand stays on his cheek, and she strokes her thumb in a soft pattern, trying to soothe.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says eventually. “I would have said yes, before, but-” He trails off. Shakes his head as though to clear his mind and swallows like there’s a lump in his throat. “I don’t know,” he says. He lets out a long breath. “And she’s dead besides. I don’t think it matters any more.”</p><p><em> Of course it </em> <b> <em>matters,</em> </b> Vex wants to say. <em> Of </em> <b> <em>course </em> </b> <em> it matters. </em> There’s something almost heartbroken in Percy’s face, as though he knows not knowing the answer here is an answer in itself. But he’s not saying it. He’s not admitting it. Like Cass says, then. He’s in denial about the extent to which Ripley cared about him. Cass’s words echo in her mind. <em> Assuming she cared at all. </em></p><p>He shakes his head again, lifts his face from her hand. Vex lets it drop between them, near his. He’s gentle when his fingers touch hers.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” he says, as though to reassure himself. “She’s gone.”</p><p><em> But you miss her, </em> Vex thinks. <em> So why did you kill her? </em></p><p>“Did she know?” Vex asks instead. “That you loved her?”</p><p>“I- yes.” For all his stutter he doesn’t hesitate in his answer. “Yes, she knew.”</p><p>“And she never told you she felt the same?”</p><p>His face is sad, his mouth twisted and lips bitten. It’s an answer in itself, even if he’s too stuck in denial to see it. </p><p>“Is that why you killed her?” Vex asks. It’s not. She <em> knows </em>it’s not; if it were that simple he wouldn’t be like this. She just doesn’t know why he did - none of them do, not even Cass.</p><p>“No,” he says. His voice has gone soft now, almost tired. She twines her fingers with his and lifts their hands to stroke knuckles over his cheek. He leans into the touch gladly. “That was- that was for other reasons.” For a moment he pauses, breath half-hitching as though he’s about to speak until: “It wasn’t safe,” he says. “To- to say things openly. So we didn’t. That wasn’t why.” He glances up, eyes bright and wet. “It wasn’t <em> safe.”</em> </p><p>She bites her lip. She considers. Percy has so far rarely refused to tell her anything. He’s answered almost any question she’s put to him, even if sometimes it’s with hesitance or uncertainty or a simple <em> I don’t know. </em> Sometimes a little sideways, dodging around specifics but… he seems to trust her for some reason, far more than he trusts the rest of Vox Machina. Far more than even his sister. Maybe it’s because she found him on the balcony.</p><p>“Will you tell me?” she asks. “Will you tell me why you did it?”</p><p>His eyes are wide and wet behind his glasses when he looks at her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He remembers leading Vox Machina down, past tombs and tunnels and traps. Remembers stepping into the lab. Remembers Anna, and the weight of his sister’s knife in his hand, and her words. <em> Avenge our family. </em></p><p>His sister who lived despite his failure, despite Anna’s promises. His sister who needed Anna dead.</p><p>He needed Anna dead.</p><p>When the memory continues, there is blood and grief and an ache in his eyes and chest and throat from crying, Cass curled around him and blood on his trousers. No knife in his hand. No knife in Anna’s chest. Just blood and a body slumped on the ground. But for his heartbeat he’d almost have wondered if it were him.</p><p>“It was-”</p><p>A lie. She lied. She had <em> lied. </em> Ripley had never been one for caring; why would she care so suddenly about him? So it was a lie. How much, then, was false?</p><p>But he can’t tread that path now, not without losing all his certainty and all his sanity. He’d anchored himself on what Anna had said and what Anna had promised, and then upon Cassandra’s return. He cannot sit down now and puzzle out every connection because he knows he hasn’t the strength. Hasn’t the time. Hasn’t the freedom.</p><p>(He knows, quietly, in the back of his mind, that if he dares to let himself ask he will break and he will fall and he will be replaced. He cannot let that happen. He must be invaluable.)</p><p>Quietly, carefully, he sets every other possible thought aside. He cannot know it. He has only Cassandra’s doubt and aspersions cast by others as evidence for that path; he has five years of dedication and partnership and love for his. Anna had saved his life. Anna had protected him. Anna had loved him.</p><p>(He had still killed Anna, when the time came.)</p><p>Vex is still waiting for an answer.</p><p>“For Cass,” he says eventually. “For family. For me. Because Cassandra wanted her dead and our family needed her dead and I couldn’t let her die out of someone else’s hatred. Because- because family is everything and Cass is all I have left.”</p><p>Vex is quiet and watchful.</p><p>“You avoid her though,” she says. “Cassandra.”</p><p>He shrugs one shoulder. “I killed someone I loved for her sake,” he says. “Someone she hates and would have me hate, but I can’t. I can’t, Vex. Five years, Anna Ripley kept me safe. I owe her too much to hate her. And I loved her.”</p><p>“And you killed her.”</p><p>“For Cass,” he says again. “For family.” Vex is watching him still, her fingers intertwined with his. Quiet. Concerned. “You’re family too, you know. To Cassandra. I couldn’t hurt any of you any more than I could hurt Cass if that’s your fear.”</p><p>“Percy,” she says. He’s no idea what to make of the look on her face. Instead, he leans into their intertwined hands and kisses her fingertips. There’s archer’s calluses on the pads of each. “I know you won’t hurt us,” she says. “Cass wouldn’t have given you a knife if she thought you would hurt us. I’m worried about how you’ve been hurt.”</p><p>He shakes his head, and feels the soft movement of their joined hands on his face. “She never hurt me,” he says. It’s easy to say with Vex’s fingers brushing against his lips. “She saved my life.”</p><p>Vex looks doubtful though, and sighs. “Percy,” she says. “Come here.”</p><p>She hugs him far more easily than Anna ever did.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s not that he hasn’t missed Cassandra - he’s missed all of their family - but he has no doubt that she’s angry with him, with how he survived, with how he failed to save anyone, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face that. It helps that she’s made no move to really talk to him either. After that first breakfast together they’ve mostly skirted by each other and Percy wonders sometimes if it should worry him. When they were younger Cass might have been subtle in her anger but it always came out eventually in stolen stirring rods or misplaced books.</p><p>She made it known, one way or another. It worries him that she hasn’t yet.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a bit of a longer chapter, but there's no smut in this one. The description of Direheart this chapter draws from what Taliesin tweeted out describing the alcohol Percy had; I reblogged the relevant tweet over <a href="https://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/post/640023594289823744/spiceshorthalt-hey-vex-wanna-drink-absinthe">Here</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Preparation for Winter’s Crest proceeds apace. Most of it he doesn’t need to get too involved in - the people of Whitestone have held Winter’s Crest celebrations for years, since the very cause of it. They hardly need his input but that it has been five years; combined with the necessary rebuilding of the town itself he occasionally has to weigh in on what should be prioritised. It keeps him busy and, thankfully, mostly out of Cassandra’s path. </p><p>Perhaps he should feel guilty for that. </p><p>It’s not that he hasn’t missed her - he’s missed all of their family - but he has no doubt that she’s angry with him, with how he survived, with how he failed to save anyone, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face that. It helps that she’s made no move to really talk to him either. After that first breakfast together they’ve mostly skirted by each other and Percy wonders sometimes if it should worry him. When they were younger Cass might have been subtle in her anger but it always came out eventually in stolen stirring rods or misplaced books.</p><p>She made it known, one way or another. It worries him that she hasn’t yet.</p><p>“You could talk to her,” Vex points out when he raises his concerns with her. “She’s your sister, darling. You’ve not seen each other for five years. I’m sure she wants to talk to you and make sure you’re alright - that everything’s all right - just as much as you do.”</p><p>It doesn’t feel like that, is the problem. The few discussions he’s had with Cass have been fleeting and he’s pretty sure it’s not just him. One or two exchanges and a stilted silence falls, neither of them really knowing any longer how to relate to one another after all that’s passed.</p><p>Under other circumstances perhaps it wouldn’t worry him so, but after five years of doing his best to survive Percy trusts his instincts to tell him when something is wrong. He’s certain something is wrong here.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He has to attend the Winter’s Crest festival, there’s no escaping that. It’s not necessarily a <em> bad </em> thing, but it is his first formal public appearance in five years, so it’s something that he has to brace himself for even though it’s objectively a good thing. That Whitestone can celebrate Winter’s Crest without fear at long last is something close to <em> wonderful </em> even if he doesn’t necessarily feel so himself.</p><p>So there’s preparations to make. Digging out and having adjusted old formal clothes. Preparing a speech, preparing acknowledgements of Vox Machina’s actions and a formal remembrance of the citizens lost in the uprising as well as those massacred five years before. Vex’ahlia’s help has made arranging things easier - money has been allotted for both a memorial of the dead and a gift in thanks to certain living, though the latter he has not yet mentioned and Vex’ahlia has not enquired. Vox Machina came, supposedly, not for any reward but to help Cassandra, and in such cases a surprise reward is better than one announced and expected. Their response will say as much of their collective character as the fact they have not, yet, asked for it.</p><p>Cassandra is… a separate issue. It’s not that he’s not happy to have her back and alive - he doesn’t know what to do with the gasping elation of knowing he’s not alone - but it does confuse matters some. Which of them has higher standing when one is the one left to inherit and the other the saviour of the whole town? Who speaks first in any announcement?</p><p>Percy is at once glad he never had to deal much with the politics of etiquette and frustrated in dealing with it now. </p><p>He’s up extra early the morning the day before Winter’s Crest and Cass is still in the dining room before him. For all her earlier comments that he never used to rise this early he’s starting to think he could say the same of her - she’s been there more mornings than not. Either she’s sleepless or she’s lying in wait for him and he’s not sure which is more cause for concern.</p><p>Percy sighs and decides against engaging. If Cassandra wishes to talk to him she can, but he doesn’t know what it could be about and he has work to get to besides. He pours his coffee, plates up some toast, a dollop of jam and butter to one side to spread once he’s sat, and takes a seat.</p><p>For several minutes, thankfully, things are quiet. They each pick at their food and slowly drain their drinks but neither dares to start conversation. It’s honestly almost peaceful and Percy settles into a slow and relaxed breakfast.</p><p>“We haven’t talked much,” Cass says, quiet and unexpected. “Do you want to have tea together? Like we all used to with- like we all used to?”</p><p>Percy blinks up at her from his toast. He doesn’t know why she’s trying now to re-befriend him; it’s not as though it’s a hidden fact that she hated Ripley. The fact he worked with her hardly puts him in his sister’s good books and for all they’re both down earlier than everyone - except for, sometimes, Vex - they’ve rarely talked much after the first morning. This is… well. Unexpected would be an understatement.</p><p>“I appreciate the offer,” Percy says, reaching for his mug of coffee. “But I have work to do-”</p><p>“I can help with it,” Cass says softly. “If you like-”</p><p>He offers a smile, waves a hand. He tries to sound more confident than he feels and is surprised how alike it feels to facing down Anders again, trying to usher his interest away from the work they needed to remain useful and alive. “I assure you, Vex’ahlia and Yennen provide me with all the help I need.”</p><p>Silence falls again, stilted and awkward and they both of them pick at their plates.</p><p>He really doesn’t know why she’s trying. He finishes up his food, downs the last of his coffee. Here, poured by himself, there’s no coffee grounds in the dregs and he misses that with a pang, the grounds Anna always left in their mugs in her haste. He sighs. He dusts his hands off, stray sparks of magic falling to the ground, and rises. </p><p>“Well,” he says. “It was good to talk with you. I’d best get to work.”</p><p>He doesn’t expect how Cass scurries to follow him, her plate and mug set quickly on the counter before she darts after him down the hall. He can see at the far end Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan at the foot of the stairs, Trinket nosing between them, and he raises a hand to greet them as they approach.</p><p>“You’re always busy,” Cass comments as they near the twins.</p><p>“Yes, well,” Percy replies. “Someone has to take care of Whitestone. I am the elder.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I can’t <em> help,” </em> she points out. “Or that I don’t want to. I was taught more of how to do this than you were.”</p><p>Which is true and isn’t that a galling thought: the one left as heir having less of an idea what to do than his youngest sister.</p><p>“Yes,” he agrees. “But I’m managing quite well with just Vex’ahlia and Yennen’s assistance, Cassandra, I’ll be fine.” She eyes him doubtfully, an expression he’s known well for years. It’d be almost a comfort but for the undiscussed tension between them, Cassandra’s clear hatred of Anna and his fear of what she might be capable of now, after so long. He feels it almost necessary to speak in his own defence. “I was <em> here </em> these past five years, Cassandra, while you were gallivanting about the continent. I can manage, I assure you.”</p><p>“We didn’t <em> gallivant.” </em> There’s a sudden raw edge to Cassandra’s voice and Percy can’t help how he recoils. Vex and her brother must have heard it as well because they halt where they stand, pausing and turning to watch them, Vex frowning, some dark look building on her brother’s face. “We saved Emon and we almost lost Pike doing so. Don’t just <em> dismiss </em> it-”</p><p>“That isn’t what I meant-”</p><p>“Then what did you mean?” She stares at him and when he can’t find a reply she speaks again. “You’ve been pushing me away any time I try to help you with <em> anything, </em> Percy. It’s like you don’t even <em> want </em> me here.”</p><p>The awful thing is he’s not entirely sure he does. It’s definitely a relief to know Cassandra lives, to know he’s not the last, but it’s terrifying too because his sister is stronger than he is and has more powerful friends than he does right now and in the end she has done more for Whitestone than he ever managed, no matter how much he tried. He failed to save even one of their family; Cass has saved Whitestone and all its people. He’s the one left to inherit all the duties of their home, but Cassandra has done more for it by far.</p><p>His silence drags too long.</p><p>“If you don’t want me here,” Cass said, cutting and cold in a way he scarcely recalls. “Just <em> say, </em>Percy.”</p><p>“I suppose I could say the same,” he calls as she turns to leave, and she stops as though yanked back, turning slowly to face him. She looks almost confused and he gestures. “You’ve certainly not hidden your hatred of Anna or how I worked with her. Anyone could see you want me gone.”</p><p>Cass looks surprised, confused more than anything else and he wonders if she didn’t expect him to catch her out on this. He chances a glance to Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan where they stand; Vex is only watching but Vax’ildan’s dark expression is growing darker and the man takes a step closer to them, quick and quiet.</p><p>“Percy-” Cass says, sounding baffled. <em> “What?” </em></p><p>He gestures again. “You left me behind before,” he says. “I’m not surprised you’ve left me behind in the metaphorical sense as well.”</p><p>The shock and confusion on Cass’ face only deepens, something else he doesn’t know what to make of in her expression as well. Vax’ildan’s hand hovers an inch from her shoulder. </p><p>“Percy-” she says again. “If I could have saved you from her I would have. Do you think- did you think I <em> wanted </em> to leave you all?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he says honestly. After all, for years he’d thought her <em> dead. </em> “But you and I are all that’s left, regardless of what either of us wanted, or intended, or <em> did.” </em></p><p>“She did what she could-”</p><p>“And I didn’t?” Percy’s rounds on Vax’ildan, surprised at the surge of anger that hits him. “Do you think I didn’t do everything in my power to save our family? I did <em> everything I could.” </em> He lets a long breath out, draws a long breath in, tries, desperately to calm himself. Anna’s words come easily to his lips. “But you cannot help those who do not help themselves.”</p><p><em> “What.” </em> Cass’ voice is fierce and cold, dangerous as Percy never thought it could be and it takes more strength than Percy thinks he has to turn and reply evenly.</p><p>“I offered them all the help I could. Every chance I could. I bartered for better treatment, better food. I did <em> everything </em> I could to help them survive.” He sighs. Anna’s words, as they have been for long years now, are a comfort. “But they didn’t take the chances given. You cannot help people who will not help themselves. I tried. Believe me, I tried. But they wouldn’t let me.”</p><p>“Perc- of course they didn’t!” Cassandra’s appalled exclamation echoes in the hall. “Of course they didn’t! You were working with <em> Ripley. </em> Telling you meant telling her meant telling the Briarwoods-”</p><p>“And meant that they could live-”</p><p>“Under the Briarwoods’ thumbs-”</p><p>“Better that than not at all!” Percy cries. “Better survival than death.”</p><p>“Percy-”</p><p>“It was the last thing Father told me to do,” he says and his voice cracks because he cannot remember their father’s last day with anything but grief. “He told me to survive. Can you blame me for wanting them all to live too?”</p><p>“Not like that,” Cass says, shaking her head. “Not if it meant helping them, not if it meant you working with <em> her-” </em></p><p>“Who else <em> was </em> there, Cass?! She saved my life! She gave me a chance to try to save all of yours - to actually <em> do </em> something. It was that or end up in the cells, useless to everyone. At least she gave me a <em> chance.” </em></p><p>“And you really think she’d have let you succeed?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t she?” he asks, genuinely baffled. Anna hadn’t wanted his family to die any more than he had - she’d said as much.</p><p>“She- <em> Percy. </em> She worked with the Briarwoods! Why would they, why would <em> she </em> let you save people they wanted dead?”</p><p>It cuts far too close to home, to what Julius and Vesper had told him when he’d pleaded with them to help him save them all. <em> If they only wanted answers, Percy, they would have asked. Percy. That’s not how this will work out. </em></p><p>“At least I tried to save them!” Percy yells in frustration. “At least I tried to do <em> something </em> instead of just <em> running.” </em></p><p>She stills like he’s struck her.</p><p>“What else was I meant to <em> do?” </em> she asks, voice cracking. “What else, Percy? I was <em> thirteen. </em> You wouldn’t ever have listened to me - you were always so sure you were right. You <em> never </em> would have listened to me - you just would have got me killed too.”</p><p>It hits him like a knife in the throat.</p><p>For a stretch Cass doesn’t say anything, both of them staring at each other in the hallway. </p><p>“Besides,” she says eventually, pulling herself together and lifting her chin, her tone gone arch and cold. “It’s not like you couldn’t have done something too. You’ve said it yourself, you were <em> here. </em> A de Rolo in Whitestone. You could have fomented revolution, you could have reclaimed our home before I ever got back-”</p><p>“And what?” he says, mouth dry. “Got hundreds of innocent people killed? Risked my own safety as well as Anna’s? She saved my life, she kept me safe. And until you-” He doesn’t have it in him to say the rest. <em> I thought you were dead. I thought I was the last. I couldn’t just die. </em> “I wasn’t going to risk lives that weren’t mine to risk - let alone one to whom I owed my own. Our family was meant to have <em> honour, </em> Cassandra.”</p><p>The last doesn’t hit like the reprimand he’d intended, to hurt but not to harm. Instead Cass just looks offended. </p><p>“Yes,” she says. “We were.”</p><p>She turns on her heel at that, prim and precise as she’d been ever since she’d started taking her etiquette lessons in earnest. Percy doesn’t wait for her to vanish round a corner; he makes his way to the library determined to bury the sting of her parting comment in work and letters and things that actually <em> matter. </em> He doesn’t much want company.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s Vex who finds him in the end, for which he’s grateful. He doesn’t know how he’d handle it if it were anyone else, but Vex he feels comfortable with, Vex he finds himself trusting more and more.</p><p>“Hey,” she says, poking her head around a bookshelf. “Are you all right, darling?”</p><p>“Not particularly,” he admits. He doesn’t see any reason to deny the fact. Vex is easy to be open with.</p><p>It helps that she doesn’t shy away from the fact. Instead, she moves closer, leaning against the bookshelf and watching him, her head tilted as though waiting for him to speak. He glances back to the paperwork on the desk, the things he’s been trying to bury his frustration and shame and guilt in.</p><p>He knows he shouldn’t have snapped at Cass. He knows it was unfair of him. He just also thinks it’s not entirely fair of her to judge how he managed to survive - to fulfil their father’s final wish.</p><p>“I’m probably not the best of company right now,” he says when he glances up and Vex is still there. </p><p>“Maybe not,” she says. “But then it’d be irresponsible of me to leave you with only your own bad company, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>He doesn’t know why that makes him laugh, but it does.</p><p>“True enough,” he says. “I, ah- I’m sorry for snapping. That probably wasn’t very pleasant for any of you to witness.”</p><p>“No,” she says quietly. “It was even worse for Cass, if her response is anything to go by.”</p><p>That’s true. He owes his sister an apology.</p><p>“Yes,” he agrees. “I, ah- I’ll be apologising to her later. Just- not right now.” He looks back to the paperwork, fusses with it a little if only to occupy his hands. “I suspect if I try to talk to her right now we’ll just end up snapping at each other again.”</p><p>“You won’t know if you don’t try,” she points out. </p><p>“Oh yes I do,” he replies, trying not to openly scoff at the idea. “That’s far from the first argument Cass and I have ever had. We grew up together, remember? That was just the <em> worst </em> argument we’ve ever had.” He sighs and buries his head in his hands. He doesn’t expect the gentle hand on his back.</p><p>“In other circumstances,” she says, “I’d guess your answer would be no. But- do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>That is- that was honestly not the question he was expecting and he lifts his head from his hands, turning to look at her. There’s a patient look on her face and it reminds him somewhat of Anna when he was explaining an idea - curious, attentive and ready to listen to the whole web of thoughts being laid out. It’s comforting.</p><p>“I-” he says, uncertain. “Yes. All right.”</p><p>Her hand moves to his head, briefly ruffling his hair and he almost wants to scowl but he can’t help but smile and lean into the touch. Quickly she clears a corner of his desk to sit and look at him.</p><p>“Well,” she says. “Where do you want to start?”</p><p>He has no bloody idea. Talking about emotions has never much come easily to him; he can know what he feels without having to put it to words but this is more complicated than that by far, things he knows he feels even if he doesn’t understand why and he dislikes having to find enough logic to express it in something resembling order. Vex’ahlia seems to realise that and smiles, swinging her legs a little.</p><p>“All right,” she says. “Why did you snap at your sister?”</p><p>Oh god, it sounds worse when she phrases it like that. It’s almost like when Mother or Vesper caught them fighting, reminding them that bonds of family came first, that to hurt kin was a crime of its own.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was- I was angry and frustrated and Cass was- it <em> felt </em> like she wasn’t leaving me alone, like she doesn’t trust me to be able to handle everything.”</p><p>“And that matters?” Vex asks. “That she doesn’t trust you?”</p><p>“That she doesn’t trust me to know what I’m doing,” he says. “That-” He doesn’t know how to say, simply, that for the past five years being useful has been the only way he could assure his survival; he knows very well how important it is for him to do his job and do it well. “She’s an adventurer,” he says, gesturing. “I have no doubt she’s going to go swanning off with you all again if only to let the Sovereign know what’s happened here. So she can leave this to me instead of <em> doubting.”</em> </p><p>For a while it’s quiet. Vex doesn’t say anything; when he glances up at her she’s staring off at a bookshelf, clearly thinking.</p><p>“Percy,” she says, slow and patient and somehow not scolding despite what she says next. “Why do you think Cassandra snapped at you?”</p><p>It’s a fair question - one he should have thought to ask himself, to be honest. While Cassandra could be something of a brat when they were younger she rarely snapped - she was more prone to storing up her anger and spite and channeling it into inventive retribution. Snapping as she had earlier was… unlike her, or at least the her Percy had known when they were younger. Usually Cassandra only did that if something had truly touched a nerve.</p><p>He plays back through the conversation, tries to pinpoint what he could have said that had so stung.</p><p>He shouldn’t have been so flippant about her adventures, he knows that. It’d been a clear mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth; for all he’d meant it mostly in humour, not bitterness or to be disparaging, he and Cass had never been close enough that poking fun or friendly ribbing was common. After five years, after their avoidance of each other … he can see why she might assume the worst though he still thinks it unfair.</p><p>He doesn’t understand her snapping at Anna’s words: they’re true. You cannot help those who will not help themselves; you cannot help those who will not let themselves be helped. No one can live another person’s life for them - their family had made their choices, he had done what he could. He won’t accept blame for that. If he had done more - but he had done what he could. It hadn’t been enough. He has to live with that.</p><p>He shouldn’t have snapped in anger and frustration in turn, he knows that. Cass was right; neither of them had any better options, it’s just…</p><p>He doesn’t understand why her voice cracked, why she sounded so close to tears. Why she went cold then instead of snapping, words far more cutting for their quiet, not unlike Mother or Grandmother when arguing, wounded pride hidden behind icy calm.</p><p><em> Oh. </em> Percy pauses, runs over this thought process again. Wounded pride. What was it he had said to her? <em> At least I tried to do something instead of just running? </em></p><p>Percy buries his face in his hands and groans.</p><p>“I should never get in fights when I’m angry,” he says, words muffled by his palms.</p><p>“I don’t think anyone should,” Vex says. “What’re you thinking, Percy?”</p><p>A lot of things at the moment, most of them variants of <em> Oh bollocks. </em> He does his best to order the train of his thoughts, to summarise his conclusion.</p><p>“She- she blames herself,” he says. “For what happened. Doesn’t she?” He glances up at Vex but she’s just watching, no hint or clue in her expression. “She blames herself even though there wasn’t anything she could have done. If she’d told me then- who knows what would have happened to her in order to keep me in line and vice versa. She couldn’t have broken the others out easily, not without being noticed. If she hadn’t left it would only have been a matter of time before she was found. But she blames herself for running and thinks she should have done more.”</p><p>Vex says nothing, just watches.</p><p>“And like an <em> idiot,” </em> Percy says. “I said her exact fear to her face because I was angry and frustrated.”</p><p>He doesn’t expect Vex’s hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says softly. “I think that’s about the shape of it.”</p><p>Percy manages not to curse his stupidity to his paperwork but only just. What comes out instead is a sustained <em> “Fffffff-” </em> and Vex chuckles. When he looks up there’s the very barest hint of a smile to her expression and for the first time since… he’s honestly not sure when - he feels truly relaxed.</p><p>He doesn’t think Vex is a threat. He doesn’t think she’s going to go running to Cass with his thoughts and fears and undermine what little he’s made for himself here. So far she’s helped - helped not just Whitestone but him as well.</p><p>He thinks, just maybe, she may truly care.</p><p>He also knows he has to apologise to Cass. You don’t just lash out at someone’s most deeply held nugget of guilt for no reason: intentionally or not, he hurt her.</p><p>And to hurt kin is a crime of its own.</p><p>“God,” Percy says, pushing himself to sit upright and rubbing his forehead. “I really do owe her an apology, don’t I?”</p><p>“Just maybe,” Vex says seriously, but there’s a fond smile playing at the edge of her mouth, a hint of a laugh in her words. Percy can’t help but laugh too. For a moment they just sit there smiling, the tension of discussion gone and it’s… it’s <em> good. </em> Percy hasn’t felt so relaxed and at ease in a while.</p><p>There’s still paperwork to get through, though, and he gestures to it.</p><p>“I should, ah-” he says. “I should probably get back to work. I’ll speak to Cass later, I will, but I also have… frankly quite a lot of this to get through before tomorrow if I want to be able to enjoy the day in clear conscience.”</p><p>Vex pulls a sympathetic expression, her hand patting his shoulder as she hops off the desk. “Stressful?” she asks, something teasing to the edge of her tone he doesn’t immediately know what to make of.</p><p>“Rather,” he says, turning to look at her. “Half of this honestly feels more exasperating than productive.”</p><p>“Want to blow off steam later?”</p><p>“I-” he says, too startled to immediately respond. “Oh. Um. Yes. That would- yes. But, ah-” He gestures. “There’s a lot to get through before tomorrow and I have an apology to give. I… I honestly don’t know when I’ll be free.”</p><p>“You could always stop by my room when you’re done,” Vex offers. “I’ve just got presents for tomorrow to sort for the rest of the day. Apart from giving Trinket a walk before bed, I’ll be around whenever, if you want to drop by.”</p><p>Percy blinks in surprise. Anna had never been so obvious in her invitations - had never been able to be. Even her most obvious ones were still couched in deniability. It’s- it sends some warm feeling through him to be so simply invited.</p><p>“I’d like that,” he says. “I, ah- I’ll drop by if I’m done before midnight, if you’re amenable?”</p><p>Vex leans over, presses a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but lean into it; he’s missed easy affection since- since.</p><p>“Very,” she says. “Don’t overwork yourself now.”</p><p>Percy laughs. “If I overwork myself I’ll have rather more steam to blow off,” he points out.</p><p>“True,” Vex agrees. “Don’t work yourself to exhaustion then.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>To call lunch stilted would be an understatement. Percy and Cass end up sitting at opposite ends of the room from each other. Vex’s brother, Vax’ildan sits with Cass, a glowering barrier seemingly trying to actively block Cass from his sight. Keyleth, beside him, looks sheepish about the whole thing, but doesn’t move. Vex’s reaction when she sees them like this is to sigh and sit down with her plate in the middle of the mess without picking a side. </p><p>Percy takes a moment to consider then picks up his plate and moves over.</p><p>“Mind if I-”</p><p>Vex gestures, Percy sits. </p><p>He glances over to his sister, then back to Vex. “They were like that when I got here,” he says quietly. “I ah- I didn’t want to intrude. It didn’t seem wise.”</p><p>“No,” she agrees. She doesn’t say <em> you’re going to have to eventually. </em> Percy appreciates that.</p><p>They eat the rest of their meals in silence. By the end Percy’s scraping each remaining crumb up slowly; he’s hesitant to leave before Cass does - then he’d have to wait outside for her, which could be just as bad a choice - but if he waits for her to go she might just slip past him before he even gets a chance. She might not even want him to apologise; she’s avoiding him even more now than she did before and he’d not blame her for wanting space.</p><p>But he does owe her an apology. All he can do is try.</p><p>“Cass,” he calls, as his sister rises to go. She freezes where she’s halfway stood up, plate in hand; beside her Vax’ildan halts his conversation with Keyleth to shoot him a glare. “Could I speak with you please? Before we all head off our own ways.”</p><p>For a moment Cassandra doesn’t move, just watching him. She doesn’t even straighten up, though her half-standing posture can’t be comfortable. Eventually she jerks a nod, then jerks her chin to the door. </p><p>“Outside,” she says.</p><p>He glances to his own empty plate - and then it moves away, Vex pulling it towards herself. She doesn’t have to tell him to go; she just tilts her head in the direction of the door.</p><p>So Percy follows Cass. She’s just outside, just to one side. She doesn’t speak but jerks her chin down the hall and starts walking - quickly. Percy scurries to keep up, following her until she stops at the end of the hall. She says nothing. There’s only the crackling of torches and rushlights; Cass’ posture closed off, not quite formal, more hunched in like when she was hurt or sulking when she was younger.</p><p>She still <em> is </em> young, he thinks. She’s barely older now than he was when the Briarwoods attacked them. </p><p>“I wanted to apologise,” he says. The words do not come easily but he makes himself say them anyway. They matter. “I, ah- I crossed several lines earlier and, ah- both intentionally and not, I was dismissive of you, your abilities and your concerns. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Cass looks too surprised by the apology to say anything so Percy ploughs on.</p><p>“I know I’ve not been around as much as you might like. There’s, ah- there’s a lot of work and staying on top of it and the preparations for Winter’s Crest to boot have been a trial and a half-”</p><p>“I can help.” He doesn’t expect her interjection, doesn’t expect the offer. It’s at once a relief - that she’d offer help, a tacit forgiveness for his earlier actions - and a worry - that she might take his work from him.</p><p>“I appreciate that,” he makes himself say. “But I’ll be fine. Someone needs to take on the responsibility, it might as well be me.”</p><p>Cass looks doubtful so he rushes onwards.</p><p>“You spent five years fighting to survive and to become strong enough to return. I spent five years working here. Continuing to do so isn’t a chore; I’m more than used to it.” He tries to offer a smile. “You can relax. We’re safer than we’ve been in years; you don’t have to add another burden on. I can handle this.” Cass still seems sceptical but no longer insistent. “I’d <em> like </em> to handle it,” he adds. “I like having something to do.”</p><p>Unexpectedly, his sister snorts. </p><p>“Yeah,” she says. “That’s always been true.”</p><p>“Yes,” he agrees. He can’t help the relief in his voice. “I <em> am </em> sorry. I shouldn’t have said half of what I said - I was angry and frustrated but that’s no excuse.” He pauses, uncertain what to say next. Cass is silent - she’s not as hunched as she was, not as closed off, but she doesn’t move to say anything. “I don’t blame you,” he says softly. “For what happened. You were the youngest of us all; it wasn’t your duty to help them.” He huffs a sarcastic laugh, runs a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t even help them - and I had at least some help and hope. I don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say aloud <em> I blame myself. </em> He knows he shouldn’t, Anna’s words over and over in his head. <em> You cannot help those who will not help themselves. </em></p><p>Cass is silent, still not looking up at him though her posture is less closed off.</p><p>“I don’t blame you,” he says again. Then: “Are you all right?”</p><p>“Fine,” she says quickly. Then, “Thank you for asking.” There’s a pause again, longer this time. “I don’t blame you either,” she says. “Like I said, they were never going to- I don’t blame you.”</p><p>No. And he did what he could. He knows that. It doesn’t stop the feeling of relief he feels at her words, though, even as she falls back to silence.</p><p>It seems, Percy thinks, that neither of them have any idea what to say.</p><p>“Are you going to head back to work?” Cass asks.</p><p>It’s not exactly a dismissal but the stiltedness of this conversation almost makes Percy want to leave. </p><p>“Ah- yes. Yes, I probably should.”</p><p>He doesn’t precisely flee, but he does make his way back to his desk and his paperwork with perhaps more speed than he might otherwise.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy finds himself outside Vex’ahlia’s door at half an hour to midnight with two glasses in one hand and a bottle of Direheart in the other. He’s not drunk any of it yet, just brought it along because- he doesn’t entirely know why, really. It just feels strange to come here empty handed. When he went to Anna’s rooms late at night it was to work or having worked or with the knowledge he’d be working early the next day. Even invited, he can’t expect a welcome for no reason, he has to have <em> something </em> to bring to the table. And… he owes Vex, he thinks. To come by empty-handed just seems rude and - awkwardly with his hands full - he knocks on her door.</p><p>Vex spots the bottle almost immediately of course; something he’s noticed of her lately is her sharp eyes, how quickly she notices even the tiniest of details. He rather likes it.</p><p>“Present?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>“A gift,” he says. “And, ah- a thank you.”</p><p>Her eyebrow only rises.</p><p>“For checking on me earlier,” he says. “And, ah- for making me see sense. And for this, I suppose, too.” He gestures at her open doorway. “But ah… mostly for earlier. I appreciate it.”</p><p>Vex’s expression changes, less teasing humour and more- something softer and gentler but still decidedly fond. As he watches, she pulls the door further open, stepping back and gesturing him inside and he follows. The room is mostly dimly lit - of course, half-elf, she doesn’t need as much light as him to see - but the fire still crackles and Trinket, whom he’d half-expected to be present, is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“Not many people say thank you for being told they’re wrong,” Vex notes.</p><p>“No,” Percy agrees. “But, ah- I’d rather know I was wrong so I could correct myself than continue to believe I was right in error.” That was something Anna had drilled into him when she’d first become his tutor and he still thinks it one of the most important lessons he ever learned.</p><p>Vex’s smile is small and genuine. “I’ll have to remember that,” she says. “That you’ll listen.”</p><p>“You offer rebuttals well,” Percy says honestly. “So- thank you.”</p><p>It’s hard to tell in the dim light but- he thinks he sees Vex’s cheeks darken.</p><p>“Well?” she says, once he’s far enough into the room and she’s shut the door. “What did you bring?”</p><p>“Direheart,” he says. “A local spirit.” When Vex offers no comment he continues. “It’s ah- it’s a variant of a rather strong one. Usually it can be rather sharp too, and herbal. This is… not sweeter, exactly, but not <em> quite </em> as eye-watering, though no less strong.” He sets the glasses down on the sideboard, gestures with the bottle, offering. “Would you…?”</p><p>“I’d love some,” she says, settling in a chair by the fire.</p><p>She’s still dressed he notes as he pours them both glasses and makes his way over. Not full armour and not the several layers she usually wears in the chillier halls of the castle, but she’s still got socks and thick leggings on, a long-sleeved shirt only a little loosened at the neck. He’d half thought she’d be getting ready to sleep at this hour and he’s not sure if she’s as much a night owl as he is or if- if she was waiting for him.</p><p>He passes her one of the glasses, she sniffs it, pulls back at the strength of the alcohol, then takes a tentative sip. “Mm.” Her pleased hum is unexpected, sends shivers down Percy’s spine. Perhaps because it’s a noise he’s only so far heard in other, very specific circumstances. “This is good, Percy, thank you.”</p><p>He smiles at that, but can’t really think of anything to say. Vex glances up at his silence before stretching one of her legs out to poke his thigh with her foot.</p><p>“Sit,” she says with a smile. “We can drink and talk awhile.”</p><p>There’s another cushioned armchair by her fire and he takes it, balancing his glass on the wide arm of the seat. He still can’t think of anything to say and takes a sip of his Direheart; it’s as sharp as he remembers from his one adventurous dip into Julius’ bottle when he was sixteen, and as warming. He settles into his chair more easily after that.</p><p>“I saw you made your apology,” Vex says with a nod. “Go well?”</p><p>He rubs his temple with his thumb. “I did,” he says. “And- I think so. Though I dare say you know Cass better than I do at this point.”</p><p>“Don’t fish for answers,” Vex says scoldingly, nudging his leg again with her foot. “You’ll have to see yourself how things turn out.”</p><p>He laughs at that, perhaps a bit forced, but he’d rather take it in humour than risk a disagreement.</p><p>“True enough,” he says. “And well- hopefully things will go better now I have a clearer idea of what I did wrong.”</p><p>“Hopefully,” Vex agrees.</p><p>For a stretch they sit in silence, warming their toes by the fire, enjoying alcohol and company. This is not exactly what Percy had expected for the evening after her invitation but - he likes it. He likes how pressureless it is. The fact that they can simply spend time together, peaceful and comfortable.</p><p>In some ways, it almost reminds him of evenings with Anna. </p><p>“What about you?” he asks after a few moments. “How was your day? What did you get up to?” He gestures with his glass. “Where’s Trinket?”</p><p>Vex chuckles, low and soft. “He’s with his uncle. Vax is feeling lonesome.”</p><p>Oh. Percy’s not sure if that’s the real reason or a quiet concession for tonight’s initially planned activities but- well, it’s more information to file away regardless. He knows Vex loves her bear; to know she considers Trinket practically her child, to the point of calling her brother her bear’s uncle, is something new.</p><p>“I don’t think your brother likes me very much,” Percy admits. “Trinket doesn’t seem to mind me, but...”</p><p>“Vax gets protective of people,” Vex says when he trails off. “We found Cass in a cell and she’s like a sister to us now. He’s concerned.”</p><p>“Because I was rude to her?” Percy asks, frowning. “I did apologise.”</p><p>Vex chuckles again. “You may not have noticed yet,” she says. “But not unlike Grog, my brother prefers actions to words.”</p><p>Well that’s daunting. Percy’s not exactly sure how he can prove his sincerity to the satisfaction of a relative stranger. Instead he sighs, kicks his feet up onto a low stool by the fireplace and says as self-deprecatingly as he can, “More work.”</p><p>Vex’s laughter is lovely.</p><p>They talk for a little while. Percy refills their glasses a few times; after the second and Vex’s curiosity he explains a little more than he had before.</p><p>“Direheart is an absinthe, properly speaking,” he says. “Some people prefer to have those with sugar water but- it’s called Direheart for a reason. You’re meant to drink it neat.”</p><p>“It’s strong,” she comments.</p><p>“It is that,” he agrees. “Which, again, is why you’re meant to drink it neat. It’s a test.”</p><p>“And an excuse to get hammered,” she says and Percy can’t help his smile or huffed laugh.</p><p>“That too.”</p><p>The silence they fall to is calm and easy. There’s no pressure to talk for all that neither of them are doing anything. Percy half-wishes he had brought his sketchbook; in profile against the firelight Vex is a gorgeous study in light and shadow, but his fingers don’t itch for a pencil as they had when he had sat with Anna late at night. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, warm and soothing in his belly, perhaps it’s the company. Vex doesn’t ask work of him as Anna had, has quite specifically suggested he take more time for himself, to unwind.</p><p>He does feel more refreshed after time spent with her than he has in- in far too long, really, even if he doesn’t fully understand her motivations. She cares, that’s not in doubt, but how much or why-</p><p>Well, he supposes he’ll find out in time. If she deigns to share.</p><p>Regardless, he enjoys her company. Even if the help she gives him with accounting is more for Cass’ sake than anything else - to rebuild the home of someone she considers a sister - he doesn’t think that <em> this </em> part of things are. Or at least, he hopes not. Vex has proven herself independent and determined, with strength of character and a mind of her own; he can’t help but think that whatever her reasons for this are, they’re entirely her own.</p><p>“It’s late,” Percy says softly. The fire’s gone low in the hearth and Vex’s eyes are half closed. To be fair, so are Percy’s. The warmth of the room and of alcohol, the easy company - it’s soothing, relaxing. As good a way to let go of stress as his and Vex’s usual, he thinks. He almost doesn’t want to leave.</p><p>“Mm.” Vex’s hum of agreement is soft.</p><p>He doesn’t want, entirely, to go, but he says the next words anyway. “Should I go?”</p><p>Vex rolls her head slowly to look at him, head tilted and a soft smile on her face. “It’s late,” she says. “The others are sleeping.”</p><p>That sounds almost like agreement and his confusion must show because she sighs and stands, sets her glass on the mantelpiece where the now-half-empty bottle rests, and reaches a hand towards him. </p><p>“Stay,” she says.</p><p><em> Oh. </em> It is late. They’re both tired. He thinks - he knows - that this is nothing but sleep. He’s not entirely sure why it feels like more.</p><p>“Should I-” He pauses as he rises. “Are you-”</p><p>Vex’s hand takes his, archer’s calluses grazing over his palm. “Do you want to?” she asks. “Darling?”</p><p>For all his worry and uncertainty, it eases at that. Endearments and easy affection - he can’t help but want it. It’s comforting and calming at once, a quiet assurance that eases his anxiety.</p><p>Her hand lets go of his wrist and she makes her way to bed, shedding clothes as she goes. Nothing sexual or sensual or teasing about it, just simple practicality, much as Anna ever did, no wasted movement as she pulls back covers and settles in. Percy’s mouth is dry, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He doesn’t know why this feels more intimate than any of the other times they’ve spent together.</p><p>“Percy?” Vex’s head is tilted to one side, the thick twist of her dark hair almost lost in the dark of the room. “Do you want to stay?”</p><p>Yes. Yes he rather does. He sets glass and glasses on the bedside cabinet, shedding clothes quickly and neatly before clambering into bed. The smile Vex gives as he joins her, as they settle into sleep, makes something warm swell in his chest.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave comments! And likewise, feel free to come and talk to me over on <a href="https://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He wakes and for a long moment everything feels… incredibly normal. There’s a warm body at his side and when he presses closer, slides his hand over the curve of a hipbone and nuzzles at the back of their neck-</p><p>It’s almost like with Anna. </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He wakes and for a long moment everything feels… incredibly normal. There’s a warm body at his side and when he presses closer, slides his hand over the curve of a hipbone and nuzzles at the back of their neck-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost like with Anna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the thought that jars him, the realisation that Vex is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anna, that she might not welcome this casual morning affection. But Vex makes no objection, stirring barely at all except for a slight sigh, a roll of her shoulders, a slow languorous stretch of her arms before leaning back into his warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is soft and warm; Percy doesn’t entirely know how to respond. Anna was rarely one for early morning greetings, usually she rose without fuss and started dressing, scolding him to action when she thought he’d lain around long enough. This kind of- of- he doesn’t know what it is. He’s not used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he replies. He can see the small curls of hair at the nape of her neck move in his breath, the way her slightly-pointed ear twitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear the soft smile in her voice as she says, “I give us five, four, three, two-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> the door opens, a thud of force that jolts the small drop-lock from its place followed by Trinket nosing his way in with a low </span>
  <em>
    <span>mrurh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy,” Vex says, reaching a hand out from under the covers as the bear ambles towards the bed. “C’mere. Good evening with Uncle Vax?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bear </span>
  <em>
    <span>mrurh</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s again as Vex fusses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I slept well. Shall we get you some breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s without any fuss that Vex pushes covers back; Percy is smacked by the cold air of the room as Vex clambers out of bed, pulling clothes from the chest at the foot of the bed and donning them quickly. Her hair she quickly brushes and plaits back; it’s only as she’s finally tying it off she pauses and looks down at where he still rests, looking up at her. He snagged his glasses from the bedside cabinet while she dressed so he can see her clearly now: her dark eyes bright, herself wide awake despite the hour and abrupt waking, seemingly unconcerned by his presence in her bed or the massive bear lingering by the door like a child desperate to get going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joining us?” she asks, eyebrow raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” He doesn’t quite have it in him to form full sentences just yet but he pushes covers back, reaching to the floor for where he’d left his shirt the night before. “I should probably get fresh clothes, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one will notice for just one morning,” she says. It sounds halfway teasing and halfway like a promise, soft and easy. “You can always go and change after you’ve eaten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a bad suggestion - not unlike what he’d done the first few mornings he’d spent overnight in Anna’s rooms, either - and he finds himself smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right,” he says, sitting up fully and pulling his shirt on. “Give me a moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The morning passes almost in a blur. It’s bright outside, a pale fall of snow in the night rendering the muddy tired streets of Whitestone, so long downtrodden, clean and new - fresh again. When they head down into town for Winter’s Crest there’s tables of food, trestles laden down with barrels of beer and mead, competitions and games for everyone, stalls of trinkets and toys. The courtyard around the Sun Tree is packed with people laughing and smiling, milling around the dais where the noonday speeches will be held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the battle had been done, the town still smoking with fire and damage, littered with the bones of risen dead and lingering spirits, the people had laughed and smiled but their eyes had been tired and worn, happy but exhausted. Now the happiness is almost golden, bright and unspeakably honest. It’s not just the simple joy of the children; even the adults have joined in - the Whisks, Simon and his daughter, are out of the Alcove, smiling as they rarely had when asked to consult on various parts of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>residuum</span>
  </em>
  <span> refinement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It truly feels like things might heal and it soothes some worn, worried part of Percy’s soul to see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra and all her friends seem to be enjoying it too, scattered here, there and everywhere in the main celebration around the once-more bare-of-bodies Sun Tree. Percy almost feels surplus to requirements at how happy everyone seems without him until Keyleth tugs on his sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alive again,” she says, tilting her head to the Sun Tree. “Look at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, at the very ends of some of the branches, despite the snowfall, are fierce, light green buds of sprouting leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ends up spending more of the day than expected with Keyleth. She’s easy company, a little awkward but clearly and genuinely well-meaning. He gets no sense of threat from her, no trickery or attempt to mislead as he got from Anders. Even Vex has layers to what she says, for all she’s easier for him to understand - comparatively open and closer to the careful, layered meanings of Anna than the obfuscation and lies of Anders. Keyleth, however, goes without masks or malice, all the small moments of good she does utterly without artifice - small flowers conjured for children, awkward but innocent jokes, aiding her friends in pranks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, though, it’s noon and he joins Yennen in climbing the few steps to the small stage before the Sun Tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s daunting, facing the people he’s so let down, but he knows he’s faced worse. He’s spoken out of turn to Lady Briarwood and survived; he can deliver a carefully prepared speech to people he’s known very nearly his whole life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he clears his throat, opens his mouth, and speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear people of Whitestone. These past five years we have survived much we should not have had to endure. We have survived unholy undead and risen monsters ruling our home; we have survived a bloody usurpation of the rule that has existed since Whitestone’s founding-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words come easier than expected. It’s political bullshit of the kind that Julius was always good at but it’s genuine, too. They’ve survived terrible things - vampires, spawn, risen skeletons, zombie giants, summoned ghosts and who knows what else. They’ve survived oppression and kidnappings and murder, people strung up at the oldest, holiest site in the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now the city is freed. The Sun Tree flourishes once more. The usurpers are gone - dead or driven out or removed from power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offers thanks to Vox Machina for their aid, professes gladness to see his sister once more before sending the people of the town back to celebrations. It’s heading for later now, lamps and lanterns being lit as the sun begins to dip below the tree- and roof-tops, shadows stretching down from the mountains, but no one yet seems tired - instead he hears music starting up, a flute and northern pipes, drums and what sounds like a violin, all blending into an old and familiar melody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he pulls Vox Machina aside before they all disperse in separate directions and takes the pouch Yennen has carefully kept for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he says, offering it to Vex. “I calculated carefully. We need much of what we have to rebuild, but- this we can spare as a show of gratitude.” He pauses, passes his eyes over every member of the group, from toweringly tall Grog to impressively small Scanlan. For all his fear, he looks each one of them in the eye, even Cass. He’s glad he chose not to tell them - every one of them seems surprised as much as pleased. “I know you did it to help my sister, but you helped us all in doing so and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> grateful for your intercession.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass’ voice is quiet and Percy makes himself look at his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In five years the most I managed to do was keep my head down and keep things quiet,” he says softly. “That you did this much means a great deal, Cassandra.” He nods stiffly at her friends. “And that your friends helped so much deserves reward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we appreciate it, darling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s words are warm and smooth, her grin bright and casual, her hands deft as she tightens the string on the pouch before passing it to Grog. In a well practiced movement the goliath passes it into the satchel he always wears and it vanishes into its depths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see everyone happy,” Keyleth adds. “Really. We’re just happy we could help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They peel off slowly but Vex lingers nearby. Her brother has joined Keyleth by the Sun Tree; the druid’s hand is pressed to the trunk, some hint of greenish magic at her fingertips. Cassandra is talking to Archibald and Yennen; Grog and Scanlan seem to have found some other contest to take part in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Vex says once they’re gone. She sounds less lively with them gone but more sincere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You earned it,” he says. “You really don’t need to thank me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grins at that. “I’ll believe that when you stop thanking us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t expect the laugh he gives at that, the smile that stretches across the face. “That’s fair,” he says. He glances past her, to where her bear stands no longer illusioned, and then past Trinket to the gathering crowd by the musicians - people pairing off to dance as the music builds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been years, he thinks, since there’s been any real excuse for music and dancing. He never thought that, of all things, he might miss his old dancing lessons now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you dance?” he asks - impulsively and before he really thinks it through but he doesn’t think it’s a misstep for all it’s very forward. He nods towards the musicians. “It’s ah- it’s been a long time since any of us here have really had cause to dance, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says, smiling and almost teasing, but nothing malicious to it in the least. “Are you asking me to dance with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you’d like,” he says. He’s almost relieved by how quickly she’d understood. “And I’ll admit it’s been a while since I last danced; I’m rather out of practice-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex loops her arm into his. “You never forget it once you’ve learned it,” she says confidently. “But you’re going to have to lead; I don’t know this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no she wouldn’t, but that’s hardly a chore, and as they near the crowd he gently moves her to stand alongside him, takes one of her gloved hands in his as the musicians pause just long enough for new dancers to find a place in the space cleared as dancefloor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an old, </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> dance, one danced every Winter’s Crest, at the ball that was held each New Year in the castle and in the square during the people’s festival. It hasn’t changed a jot in generations - grandmothers dance it with grandchildren and not one step is missed between them. Vex is right - he hasn’t forgotten it at all. The motions come back to him as automatically as breath the moment he steps into the rhythm of the music. Vex is a good partner too, picking it up quickly as they go, though how much of that is the result of her prior observation and how much is his guidance he cannot say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>good,</span>
  </em>
  <span> regardless of all else. There’s few he knows well enough to ask to dance with, fewer still he’d trust to be a good partner. Vex is elegant and quick, learning each step as it comes and grinning as she picks up the pattern - it really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> simple, step-step-turn, a twist with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>musical riff, a brief hop-skip-step with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s smiling before he even really realises it, at Vex, at the music, at the fact that, after years, they can dance once more in Whitestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex has so often helped him smile lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex is still smiling as the dance comes to an end and as they spin to a halt Percy can’t help but smile back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he says, clasping her hand in both of his. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says, half-laughing, smile still present. “You don’t have to thank me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” he says. “But I’m grateful you agreed to dance nonetheless.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy doesn’t see each of Cassandra’s friends leave the celebration, but rather makes his way up to the castle once it feels fair to extricate himself and sees none of them in the crowds as he does so. It’s been a long day; he doesn’t doubt that at least some of them have already decided to get a light evening meal and a solid night’s sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not unaware that, sooner rather than later, they’re likely to be leaving. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a simple thing to fix himself a light dinner; even with the celebration the castle staff have left a well-stocked pantry and Percy has long years practice of feeding himself and Anna. A sandwich is easily put together, a mug of chamomile and mint tea prepared as he plans to sleep rather than stay up late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wends his way upstairs slowly after eating, taking the servant’s stairs rather than the main ones. The passage comes out by his mother’s old office - Delilah’s during the occupation and now largely given over to Vex’s use when she’s helping him with the accounts. Vex’s obvious surprise and pleasure at the reward money had been warming to see, and he has no doubt that, by now, she’s likely found a quiet place to sit down and count it all out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a light flickering under the doorframe and Percy thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>what place is quieter than the office allotted for her use?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He raps the door with his knuckles once-twice, hears the sound of shifting papers and coin before Vex’s voice calls out “Come in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open easily and when he looks in he sees Vex at the desk, a ledger open before her and the pouch of coin on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you might be here,” he admits. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t respond immediately, glancing over the desk before looking at him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m basically done,” she admits, closing the ledger and sliding a pencil into a space in its spine. “Mostly I was double checking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing wrong with that,” Percy says. “It’s always best to run the numbers twice for anything.” He pauses. “Sometimes more, if you want to be absolutely certain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex laughs as she tucks the ledger and coin purse into a satchel on the floor. “Well,” she says, a smile spreading across her face as she leans back and kicks her legs up onto the desk </span>
  <em>
    <span>(her</span>
  </em>
  <span> desk now, he thinks, and is surprised by the swell of warmth he feels at the thought), “That doesn’t sound like the voice of experience at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely not,” he says. He can feel a smile tugging at his lips. “Just occasional practice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex laughs again and it’s a strange kind of comfort. It’s been a long, long day, a day in which so many things could have gone wrong - he was half prepared for Cassandra to accuse him of trying to pay her friends off with their reward - but nothing has. With Vex here, smiling and laughing, he feels even more sure that things are- that things are going well. That things will </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late,” he says. “And been rather a long day. I was wondering if- if you’d like company as you head back to your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Vex’s face softens as he asks and she folds her legs down off the table more slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds lovely,” she says, picking up the satchel and standing. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a long walk, but in the dim halls this late at night, flickering rushlights for the only illumination, it would feel almost like the occupation but for Vex’ahlia’s presence at his side. She’s confident and calm, quiet but not worryingly so. If anything it’s soothing - she feels no need to say anything and nor does he; a silent kind of companionship as he’d sometimes enjoyed with Anna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple, silent mutual understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach Vex’ahlia’s door faster than Percy had anticipated but when he moves to leave Vex’s hand is a warm presence on his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” she suggests and winks. “There’s still half the Direheart left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stills before accepting the invitation. He wants to. Gods knows he wants to. So openly offered an invitation isn’t to be ignored or easily declined. He enjoys Vex’s company and he’s seen how easily the others listen to her. Her fondness for him is nothing less than a boon with how things have changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But things today have gone so well. He’s not used to things going like that without some hidden expectation to trip him up, without a hitch, without something to remind him of just how easily things can go wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand is warm in his. He hopes this isn’t crossing a line to ask but to not know is a risk he isn’t sure he’s willing to take right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all you want tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it is, that’s all it will be. He enjoys her company too much to easily refuse her, be it for a shared drink or something else. But- he enjoys her company, in many ways and for many reasons. He’d like to know if he has reason to hope for anything else. If he has reason, as this continues, to hope for something more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s eyes are bright and dark as she watches him, as she stretches up on tip-toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, to his lips, her hands light on his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on in,” she says, words breathed out against his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she steps inside, Percy follows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t reach for the Direheart. The room is dark, just moonlight reflected off snow through the window, but Percy can see - the bear is absent again, and in the pale light Vex is striking, dark hair and eyes distinct against paler skin, if still several shades darker than his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says softly, hands on his hips, gently tugging. “Joining me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does he need to reply aloud? He kisses her softly, follows where her hands lead him, until the edge of her bed hits the back of his legs and he stumbles back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy?” Vex asks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I rather think I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy to lift a hand as she straddles him, pushing him down into the bed, to bury his fingers in her hair and pull her close as she leans over him and presses her lips to his. She shifts above him and he licks into her mouth and it’s easy to get lost in it, the push and pull of sensation, and a comfort too. He doesn’t have to worry like this; instead he can set his thoughts and doubts and worries aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so long a day, full of potential pitfalls, it’s pleasant not to have to think or worry or fear at all.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave comments! And if you have any questions, feel free to come and talk to me over on <a href="https://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He thinks, for all Vax’ildan’s claims as to her greed, Vex’ahlia is a remarkably generous soul. She might be glad to take money but she gives in a myriad ways too.</p><p>He’d like, at times, to give something back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He walks down to breakfast with Vex. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday and, as ever, his hair is a mess in absence of a comb. It’s not likely to matter though. The only people who tend to rise this early are himself, Vex and occasionally Cassandra and though the idea of his sister noticing concerns him - Vex is here. He can’t help but feel safe around Vex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining room is empty when they arrive but for platters and tureens of food, already laid out. Vex takes a seat immediately, serving herself eggs and bacon, hash browns, baked beans, two sausages and half a tomato. No mushrooms, he notes, heading for the sideboard and pouring coffee. The pungent steam is as soothing a reminder to wake up as it ever has been and he walks back to the table, two mugs and a small jug of milk in hand, already feeling more prepared for the day. He slides one mug and the milk to Vex and starts to serve himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less so when Cassandra arrives. He can feel his heart go from calm to racing in his chest, discomfited by his sister’s presence as he isn’t by relative strangers. He at least takes comfort from Vex beside him, their elbows pressed together, and turns his attention to his food and his coffee instead. Indeed, he doesn’t look up until Vex rises, snagging his near-empty mug as well as her own before heading to the sideboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra is watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze is fixed and steady; there’s food on her plate, but for all she’s already devoured half of a fried egg, the rest remains as she watches him over top of her mug. Percy doesn’t know what to make of her expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet day. After breakfast Vex peels off with her bear, heading into the Parchwoods with local hunters to ensure Whitestone’s storerooms stay stocked through the winter. After the rejuvenation Keyleth worked, local wildlife is pouring back into the area. Despite the season there’s as many foragers as animals out there, competing with deer and birds and rabbits as hunters trying to bag those selfsame animals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s half-wondering if they’ll need to set up hunting permits as they had before the Grey Hunt was instituted. There isn’t a Grand Hunter at present and without one- well, he knows the stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure we don’t hunt too much,” Vex promises, tightening an armour buckle as she heads to the main doors. “We have to leave enough game for there to be any next year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy watches her head down the path, her bear on one side and her brother on the other, before turning back inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much as he might enjoy Vex’ahlia’s company he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> have work of his own to attend to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spends most of the day at his desk. Without Vex’ahlia present he feels little need to join those still around for lunch; he pops briefly down to the kitchen to fetch a plate of food but doesn’t bother to linger. He doesn’t entirely know what to say without Vex to provide an easy way into conversation, doesn’t entirely know what to say to Cassandra when it’s just them. He’d rather keep to what he does know: work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His various letters from the past fortnight have finally been replied to - Trust, Drynna, various farmers in the Parchwoods and further south, updates from the whitestone quarries. The letters are deathly dull but they do need attending to whether he likes it or not. Trade enquiries and general knowledge of who’s holding the reins now, possible future alliances and mutually beneficial agreements with this township and that Pelorian parish, bartering back and forth on what the updated trade agreements should be now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And worse, responses from the Parchwood cousins. The ones who hadn’t said or done </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the Briarwoods. He’d at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs and sets those letters aside for last.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Penning alliance letters?” Vex asks where she leans in the doorway. After not seeing her since breakfast Percy can’t help his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like,” he says. “Mostly trying to gauge how severely the Briarwoods mucked things up for us now the letter replies have come in.” At her raised eyebrow he waves a hand and continues. “Not as severely as I’d feared. Though that mostly seems to be because they didn’t want the trouble insulting important personages would cause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Vex says, shutting the door behind her and moving to perch on the end of Percy’s desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair to look at her, stretching out his legs. “Most things are roughly headed back to normal. Old alliances and agreements in place, be that from good faith or sympathy over circumstances. A few of the surviving Parchwood nobles are trying to ask about marriage alliances but </span>
  <em>
    <span>those,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, wrinkling his nose, “can wait. At the very least, I want to get a handle on how many cousins and cadet branches survived before even considering them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex has an odd look on her face, one he’s not sure what to make of. “Marriage alliances?” she asks. He doesn’t know what to make of her tone either, and he shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an expectation. Not my favourite one back then, to be honest, and certainly not now. I was lucky - second son, third child, no interest in anything except my studies. Not much of a catch, really, after Julius and Vesper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now there’s only two of you left,” Vex says. He still doesn’t know what to make of her tone. He can at least see the furrow of a frown to her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he agrees. With a sigh he sits back upright, moving the relevant letters to one side of his desk. “And I think, after all we suffered thanks to the Briarwoods, neither Cass nor I much want to suffer arranged marriages as well. We’ll have to make alliances one way or another but - not that way, I think, if it can at all be helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he glances up, Vex's expression has, if not cleared, at least become somewhat easier to read, both her eyebrows raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cass values her freedom too much to accept anything she might see as a shackle,” he says. “And I-” He trails off and shrugs. “Well, it’s as I said. I think our family has suffered more than enough at the hands of the Briarwoods to ever want any of us to suffer further unhappiness, least of all at our own hands. No. If I marry it will be to someone I care about.” He looks up at Vex and offers a smile. “After everything I’d far rather marry someone I actually love than someone I must for duty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vex seems uncommonly thoughtful that evening, quiet and contemplative. She doesn’t pull away from him exactly - for which he’s thankful, he’s not sure he likes the idea of facing her and Cassandra’s friends without her company - but he recognises the distant look in her eyes and how she moves from all the times Anna was preoccupied. It’s familiar and when time comes to sleep he walks with her to her room, not too far from his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if she wants him to join her or not. Anna only sometimes wanted his company when contemplating, but Vex’ahlia is not Anna. What he has with her is rather different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it is different enough, perhaps he has cause to hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation tapers off as they go until she, he and her bear are standing before her door in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow?” she asks. It’s cheerful, benign, not unlike any of the other times they’ve said goodnight but - well, Percy can never help but hope otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to go?” he replies. There’s a slight lump in his throat he has to speak around but he manages to not sound as plaintive as he feels. Vex smiles, leans, presses a kiss to his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Percy,” she says, unlatching her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paces back to his own room in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to do. Anna at least had always explained why she sent him away - his agitation or distraction or whatever else. There was always a reason, something he could work on or improve on or change. Something that, in its way, set his mind at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t know why Vex sent him away. He doesn’t know what he’s done </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He casts his mind back over the day as he shuts and bolts his door, as he starts shedding clothes and preparing for bed. He does not think he can be faulted for being quiet around Cass when she had joined them - his sister had been quiet too, at least until the others had started to join them - and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> spoken to others, to Keyleth and briefly to Grog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast went well, he thinks. Cassandra made little move to join conversation until everyone had joined them, and by that point he’d been engaged in conversation with Keyleth regarding the local farmers for a good few minutes. Perhaps he should have offered to join her hunting - but he was no use out there and they both know it. He’d have been more hindrance than help; he does far more for Whitestone in his office than out and about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, those don’t- they don’t feel right. Or, to be accurate, they do feel right, as though he made the correct decision. He wonders if, perhaps, he should have joined those of Vox Machina still in the castle for lunch but he doesn’t see how that would have changed things: Vex was in her hunting leathers when she came to see him in his rooms, she can’t have been back more than a few minutes before, several hours after lunch had passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which leaves only something at dinner or when she’d come to see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets his clothes to one side, some into the laundry basket, some for the next day, shoes by the door. Pulls on pyjamas, pulls back covers. He considers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had seemed off during their discussion. As soon as he’d mentioned the marriage alliance proposals, and something in him lurches as several thoughts click together. Is she upset that they exist? He’d told her he had no intention of accepting any of them. Or- did she think he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> accept them? Is she distancing herself now rather than later?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had said she’d see him tomorrow, smiling and friendly, affectionate as she ever is. He can feel the echo of her kiss on his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are- there are options here, things it could be but he doesn’t know which it could be of them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t think Vex wants him to take such an alliance any more than he does. She’d gone quiet and- he doesn’t know what to make of her expression or tone when he’d mentioned it even now, but it had cleared some when he promised he had no such interest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he thinks, settling into bed, that did not explain the quiet or the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So perhaps she does expect him to take such an offer. This agreement between them was meant to be casual, just to blow off steam and de-stress but he thinks - hopes - it has become more than just that. But perhaps - not to Vex. Or... perhaps she knows that at some point she must leave, perhaps this is distance now to make it easier later. At some point Vox Machina must leave and he’ll be left without her company. Perhaps, in her absence, she expects him to accept someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t be alone if he accepted such an offer at least. He’d have consistent company and help with managing everything. And there’d be expectations too, so-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forces his thoughts away from the whole matter. It’s not like he needs a spouse. Not like he even wants one, least of all arranged. He meant what he’d said to Vex: if he’s getting married after everything that’s happened he’d far rather it be for love than duty. He doesn’t want to marry for politics or so there’s expectations to fulfil so he can get release almost when he likes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never needed that. Even with Anna he hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. Things were - they were more for her benefit, because she wanted them and they pleased her and he liked to see her happy. Liked to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> her happy</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He likes to see Vex happy too. At first - at first perhaps because he’d taken so well to her, because she was friendly and kind and maintaining that friendliness was worthwhile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But honestly, he’s starting to think it’s just like with Anna. He feels safe with her, enjoys her company, admires her intelligence and respects how capable she is. Of course he likes to see her happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she’s helped him manage things, first as informal treasurer, then reminding him to take care of himself, then just by- by helping all of Whitestone for no reason other than she can and it matters to her. He thinks, for all Vax’ildan’s claims as to her greed, Vex’ahlia is a remarkably generous soul. She might be glad to take money but she gives in a myriad ways too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d like, at times, to give something back.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wakes early the next day. He reaches for warm company almost reflexively but then - he is in his rooms, not Anna’s and not Vex’ahlia’s. He almost wants to press his face to his pillow and hide but he’s not a teenager anymore, he can bloody well get up and do something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, he has work to do. (Besides, Vex is usually up early. At the very least he can find out where they stand.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls himself together quickly: up, washed, teeth scrubbed, hair combed, self dressed. The dining room is empty when he arrives, breakfast already laid out, but Vex’ahlia and Trinket arrive within minutes, both of them heading for the food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy weighs some social calculus in his head before picking up the coffee jug and pouring a second mug. It cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> to try to remain friendly with Vex’ahlia and he carries his mug, hers, and a jug of milk all over to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he says, taking a seat opposite and sliding her the coffee mug. “Sleep well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s smile is as bright and warming as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breakfast is brisk and quiet. People file down, conversations start and end, but it’s a grey day outside, foggy as anything, frost thick on the window panes. It’s a day for a slow waking. People file off slowly, piecemeal here and there but Vex stays, one hand rubbing Trinket’s ears as he polishes off what few of the sausages Grog didn’t eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Letters again today?” she asks and Percy nods. “Will you need help with anything? If Turst’s offering you a bad deal-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s nodding before he even realises. “Please,” he says. “They’re asking more than the coffers have to give if we’re to rebuild. More than they’ve asked in the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmms</span>
  </em>
  <span> thoughtfully, fingertips tapping her cheek. “They’re probably offended, you know. At the lack of trade for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” he agrees. “But- it’s hardly my fault, or Whitestone’s. The people shouldn’t have to suffer for what the Briarwoods did. They’ve already suffered rather enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Vex agrees. “But politics isn’t always good about people.” She gestures with a hand; almost immediately Trinket finishes licking his claws clean and pulls himself to his feet. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day passes quickly as it ever does with Vex. From letters alone she helps to identify what it is Turst might accept instead of more money than they have, and they get a letter written up and sent off well before lunch. Other correspondence is likewise swiftly dealt with, Vex comparing the quarry reports to the old ledgers to double check how much whitestone - and in time </span>
  <em>
    <span>residuum</span>
  </em>
  <span> - they might have to trade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them mention the letters from the Parchwood nobles which Percy’s rather pointedly shoved to the bottom of his inbox.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After lunch they go to the office Vex has made her own, what was once Delilah’s and, before that, Percy’s mother’s. That Cassandra hasn’t said anything yet - Percy’s not sure if she hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. He doesn’t think it’s the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still - work is peaceful. The accounts are in good condition even with Turst’s attempts to encroach on what little they have. Keyleth’s rejuvenation of the Parchwood immediately around Whitestone has at least given them </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of winter harvest to draw from; they will not be completely without hope should Turst be stubborn. Drynna’s proven more willing to sell them food as well, in exchange for the newly renewed whitestone trade, and with Vex’ahlia balancing the books, eking money out of things Percy had not thought they could eke more money out of, Percy has some hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he says more than once. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t miss the hint of colour high on Vex’s cheeks when he says that, the clear pleasure of his smile, but he notes it and keeps it to himself. If he knew how best to, he’s almost tempted to ask Vex’ahlia to stay - to become Whitestone’s treasurer, to become head of economics, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> in some role that suited her. It’s midafternoon by the time they’re effectively done, leaning back in their chairs as the mantelpiece kettle slowly bubbles it’s way to boiling on the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this rate,” Percy comments, “There shan’t be much to do tomorrow. I don’t know what I’ll do then; I’m no good without </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fill my time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Vex asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in the least,” he says. “I’m too used- I’ve spent the last five years working because it was the only way to survive. To not have anything to do feels-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrong. Dangerous. A risk he is not willing to take, not with Cassandra here and so willing to take work from his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cannot be useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Vex says, shifting her chair and kicking her feet up onto Percy’s legs. “Why don’t you show me around Whitestone tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy snorts. “I’d have thought you’d know town from the help you’ve all given it. And from sneaking around starting a rebellion, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hardly a sight-seeing trip,” she points out. “Go on, give a proper tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s almost wheedling, but the smile on her face is too lovely to ignore. It’s been a long time since he’s seen real sincere happiness and if this is Vex at the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea</span>
  </em>
  <span> of spending time together tomorrow…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alr-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex,” Vax’ildan says, bursting through the door with no warning. Percy jumps; Trinket where he’s curled in the corner merely twitches an ear and goes back to sleep. “Where’s my-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s immediately beaned in the chest with a small leather wallet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax’ildan beams, flicks it open with his thumb to reveal- what Percy thinks are lockpicks. “Thanks Stubby.” With that he’s already moving back out the door, lockpicks in his hand, door handle in the other. “I’m gonna finish packing, see ya later, nerds!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerd yourself!” Vex calls, all humour, no rancour. “And stop trying to steal mine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the door clicks shut behind him, Vex still grinning as she reaches out to scratch Trinket’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t approve of me learning to lockpick,” she says when she catches Percy watching her. “Tries to steal my lockpicks by claiming he’s ‘borrowing’ them so sometimes I steal his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There should be a safe somewhere in here,” he says thoughtfully. “You could keep yours in that while they’re not in use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And challenge my brother to </span>
  <em>
    <span>steal</span>
  </em>
  <span> them?” she says, then grins. “Hm, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment they sit there in quiet amusement before Percy clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Tomorrow.” He pauses, but Vex is watching him, attentive and watchful as she ever is. “If you truly would like a tour around Whitestone. I’d be happy to show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s grin is wide and pleased and she pulls her legs off his lap, leaning to kiss his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Darling,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says. “I look forward to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle back into conversation without much fuss - Vex is easy company and Percy can never feel anything but relaxed around her. Interruptions - even interruptions from Vex’ahlia’s own brother - don’t change that essential fact. Still, Vax’ildan’s intrusion was a reminder that, although Vox Machina have not left for Emon immediately, sooner rather than later, they are going to have to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy knows without a shadow of doubt that he is going to miss Vex’ahlia.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>After dinner, they troop outside. The overcast morning looks to have led to a deluge of snow and as soon as they all step outside Grog nails Vax’ildan in the face with a snowball, prompting all out war. Percy stays comfortably in the entrance hall and watches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost doesn’t notice Cassandra stopping at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy to watch the others. They yell and yelp and scream and shout and </span>
  <em>
    <span>laugh</span>
  </em>
  <span> above all else. Trinket helps Vex trip Grog up, the goliath proceeds to wrestle the bear until Vax’ildan breaks some kind of a truce and hurls an icicle right at Grog’s head. They bicker but seem delighted by it and it reminds Percy of old times, times he hasn’t thought about in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keyleth’s going to pull a Whitney,” Cass says quietly. She doesn’t look away from the crowd and Percy glances back to them quickly. “Just watch, she lets the others all pick their nemesis and then-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An antlered air elemental bursts out of a snowdrift, a score or more of snowballs hurled at high speed in all directions. One falls just barely short of where they stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Whoops!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> yells Keyleth in a whooshing voice - Auran Primordial if Percy had to guess, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>oops</span>
  </em>
  <span> clear enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whitney couldn’t turn into an elemental,” Percy points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Cass agrees. “But she would have if she could, wouldn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been years since Percy’s really let himself consider his siblings but - yes, yes Whitney would have without a doubt. Whitney always hid her sneakiness behind genuine sweet innocence. Cass’ sneakiness was something else entirely, capable of being cutting and quick when she wished, but Whitney always cared about them all, even if that didn’t stop her from being appallingly sneaky when occasion required.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees what Cass means; Keyleth too is kind and genuine but fully capable of being unexpectedly dangerous when occasion allows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while they stand in silence, just watching the rest of Vox Machina’s fight. Despite the dark and cold none of them seem intent on stopping - though Percy supposes that might be to do with the well-banked fires waiting for them all in the parlour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, eventually Percy has to say the words he’s been rolling around his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going back to Emon soon, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass glances up at him, but he keeps his gaze on the fight. Vex has shimmied up a tree and is gathering snow from some of the wider branches; he suspects she’s planning on hitting her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says after a moment. “We have to, Uriel needs to know that Whitestone’s ours again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in her tone sounds - unhappy, uncertain. Not sulking but … there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong, even if he has no idea what it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you expecting trouble?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass startles, looks at him properly and he glances down at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possibly,” she admits. “I- I searched through the Briarwoods’ chambers.” Their </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents’</span>
  </em>
  <span> old chambers. “And through Anders’. There were- there were papers. To Emon. Not just to Uriel but- there was private correspondence. Something about that Whispered One-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vecna,” Percy says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him.” Cass does sound almost sulky now, like when they were children and she deemed the outcome of some dispute unfair. “His cult. They were addressed to Riskel Daxio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no idea who that is but from how Cass says the name, clearly it matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Important at court?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practically a brother to the Sovereign.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy wishes, very emphatically, that he could swear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the path and lawn ahead of them, the rest of Vox Machina still laugh and bicker and throw snow at each other like nothing is wrong. Half of Percy wants to trust in that, to believe-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they know?” he asks. “About Daxio?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vax does,” Cass says. “And Vex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he relaxes. He trusts Vex’s judgement; clearly Cassandra does too if she chose to tell both of the twins. And Vex, given everything today, doesn’t seem at all worried. Nor Vax’ildan, given how cheerful he was when trying to find his missing lockpicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes one really can trust in the happiness of others to judge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll be fine,” he says, watching Vax’ildan pour ice down Grog’s back. He doesn’t miss Cass’ surprised glance at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved both Westruun </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emon,” he points out. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen to the stories Scanlan has told of what you all got up to, even if I had to pick out fact from flamboyant fiction with Vex’ahlia’s kind help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass grins sheepishly at that, an old and familiar expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take care of Whitestone,” he says. “I promise you. But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> take care of whatever business you have back in Emon. I can’t convince the Sovereign of Daxio’s guilt.” He shrugs. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> save Westruun and Emon. You did. You’re the ones who have his trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but-” she trails off. “It’s been- I don’t want to leave you alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be alone,” he points out. “Keeper Yennen is going to be helping. Archibald, if he has the energy still. The castle staff and the guards. Thanks to Vex I have a good grasp of the accounts now.” He straightens his shoulders, adjusts how his hands each hold the opposite wrist where they’re crossed over his chest. “Besides, you can always come back and visit. Whenever you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra is frowning still and he sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that I’m not glad you were able to come back and help free Whitestone,” he says. “I am, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>much. But you haven’t been here the past five years. You’ve not practiced the skills you were taught. I at least have talked to Yennen over the years and have some idea of the state of the town. I’ve managed experimental budgets and construction schedules. I’ve been doing fine these past few weeks, I’ve got trade back up and running. After all this time, I think I might actually be in a fair position to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> something here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can too,” she says. “Percy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve already done plenty,” he points out. So much and him so little. “You saved this town from the Briarwoods. Let me keep it saved.” Cass doesn’t look soothed at all and Percy makes himself smile. “You can always come back. Whenever you like, Whitestone is your home too-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, Cassandra shoves a rune-inscribed stone at him and he fumbles a moment to uncross his arms and take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a gatestone,” she says. “Someone we know made it. It’s one of a pair. We have the other. If- if anything happens, you can concentrate on it and use it to get to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it one way, or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either stone can get to the other. But the stone goes with the person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One way of a kind, then. And keeping it would mean Cassandra really can drop in whenever she likes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure how he feels about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he makes himself smile. Better to stay on his sister’s good side than not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s useful,” he says. Carefully he pockets it. “But now, I think your friends are going to get completely drenched if they stay out much longer. Shall we call them all in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vox Machina doesn’t leave immediately. The next day Percy takes Vex on a tour of Whitestone; halfway through they pick up Keyleth and have a long talk about the Sun Tree and its history.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s… strangely nice, even if Percy would have preferred to spend the day with only Vex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner is busy, noisy, as though they’re trying to make the most of their time together, in this place, before they leave. When Vex’s hand finds his as they make their way upstairs he follows without question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farewells are… interesting, an inverse of what he’s used to. He used to bid Anna farewell from the steps of the castle, watch her clamber into a carriage as she gave him final orders. No one minded it or thought it strange. But- what he has with Vex is a strange hesitant thing. For all their ease with each other, for all Vex’s open invitations of company, he’s not sure how open they’re to be about it. With Anna at least they worked together openly; so much affection could be attributed to familiarity alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It strikes Percy then that he’s known Vex’ahlia for two and a half weeks and he already cares about her near as much as he ever did Anna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bids Vex’ahlia farewell from bed, still half-curled around her, his face pressed to her neck. He presses a gentle kiss to the lobe of her ear as they slowly wake, doesn’t disentangle their hands as they usually do so they can briskly rise and dress and all else. Instead he holds on gently until she half-turns to look up at him, squeezes her hand fleetingly. Slowly, he half sits up, props his head up on one hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to miss you,” he admits. It’s a risk to admit it, to be obvious in his emotions but- it’s a simple truth. It can be taken many ways. Besides, when in bed was the only time he and Anna could truly come close to saying the truth of things. Of course that should hold true with Vex as well. “I know, ah- I know we agreed this was to be casual but, um. I do enjoy your company. Besides this as much- as much as this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please stay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he half wants to say, but that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> too obvious to say aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex smiles at him. “You’re very sweet,” she says and he shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just honest.” He pauses, swallows. “It’s ah- it’s been a long time since I’ve had much friendly company and- I do genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you come back.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That too is too obvious to say aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure we’ll visit,” she says blithely. “I know Cass wants to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are bright and dark and he bows his head to press a kiss to her cheek as she’s so often pressed kisses to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you do,” he says as he pulls back. “I’d like to see you again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breakfast is at once brisk and lingering. Everyone eats quickly but no one makes any immediate move to rise, to pick up their things and head down to the Sun Tree where, they’d agreed, they’d return to Emon from. Percy half suspects they don’t want to go, are enjoying the peace and freedom and the chance to simply help rather than be forcibly involved in politics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, eventually the time comes and he pulls his old worn coat down from it’s peg to join them walking down into town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sun Tree is huge and looming in the square, Winter’s Crest pennants still dangling from some of the branches. There’s leaves too, sprouted from the minute buds Keyleth had pointed out to him, maybe not the Sun Tree’s usual extensive foliage, even in the depths of winter, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he watches, Keyleth places her hand on the Sun Tree’s trunk, murmuring something under her breath, magic spreading from her fingers over the ancient bark as green as the tree’s new leaves, a portal forming showing, at its other end, another place entirely. One by one, Vox Machina file their way through the and, but seconds later, the portal seals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s three days later that the first of the refugees come pouring through, Cassandra at their head.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you want to talk, you can always find me at my <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“It doesn’t matter if this ends up changing anything. If you can give them back Emon or anything else. When they had nothing else, they had help. <i>That</i> matters to them right now.” He glances over them all, swallows around a lump in his throat. “That matters to them more than anything. When they had nothing, when they’d lost everything, people still <i>helped.</i> They won’t forget that.”</p><p>He knows from his own experience: they <i>can’t.</i> You never forget the hand that reached out when you had nothing, the hand that, in its way, gave you everything.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The refugees follow his sister up to the very door of the castle, but by that point a guard has found him and he’s down in the entryway to meet them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Cass says and she sounds relieved and tired and worried all at once. “Do you still have the gatestone we gave you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs,” he says, confused. “Cassandra, what’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragons,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They attacked Emon. Four chromatics. A green, a black, a white and a red. The red’s still there, the others went - we don’t know where. Emon is destroyed. These-” She gestures behind her- “they’re some of the only survivors we found. We’ll be sending the rest through as soon as we can.” Her eyes are wide and earnest as she looks at him. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have brought them if we had anywhere else-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says. “It’s fine.” He offers a dry laugh. “We have enough empty houses with how many left under the Briarwoods. We have enough space. We can find places and work for everyone. It’ll be a help, if anything.” He pauses looking over the people. They look- scared and worried, clothes singed and sootstained, all of them worn and tired. “Dragons,” he says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragons,” Cassandra confirms. “The Pyrah - some of Keyleth’s people - they were destroyed when the red emerged. Emon’s a ruin. Westruun’s been taken. We don’t know where the white or the green have gone. Syngorn has </span>
  <em>
    <span>vanished...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She trails off, looking down at her feet. For once, Percy thinks, she looks her age - young, far too young. In this, the least he can do is try to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feywild,” he says. Cassandra looks up at him sharply. “Syngorn ah- when I was learning Elvish, I learned their history too. In times of trouble Syngorn can retreat back to the Feywild.” He shrugs. “That’s where the elves started out according to some histories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Cass says. She sounds painfully relieved. “That’s- that’s good to know. That’s- that’s something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while there’s a lull, quiet, both of them uncertain what to say before Cassandra starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” she says. She reaches back towards the crowd of people with her, gesturing a young man forwards - a familiar young man. Percy recognises the Briarwoods’ carriageboy. “Desmond, Percy, Percy, Desmond. Desmond’s local, so-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve encountered one another,” Percy says. Fleetingly, but they had. Desmond was the Briarwoods carriageboy after Sylas had claimed him from Tylieri but he’d helped with preparations for Anna’s trips as well. He nods to Desmond. “Why don’t you take them to Keeper Yennen,” he suggests. “He’s been organising a lot of the rebuilding effort in the town itself. I mostly manage the paperwork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desmond jumps at being addressed but nods. “Yes sir!” It’s a matter of moments before he has the crowd gathered up and is leading them back down the path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragons,” Percy says again. He scrubs a hand over his face, tries not to feel so tired or so scared. The cold breeze helps; he’d rolled his sleeves up when he’d started work today and his forearms are chilled. “Do we know if one’s headed this way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vorugal was,” Cass says quietly. “The white. But if he hasn’t stopped here-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask if there’s been any reports of white dragon sightings,” he says. He gestures down the hall. “Shall we get the gatestone and get you back to your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet walk up to Percy’s rooms. Percy tries not to notice Cassandra leans towards him just as she had after nightmares when they were small. It’s too familiar in ways he doesn’t know how to tackle.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vox Machina arrives early the next day. Percy at least had the presence of mind to ask for an acolyte of Keeper Yennen and one of the town guards to wait by the Sun Tree - the people are herded off to the Lady’s Chamber by the acolyte and the guard races quickly ahead to let Percy know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees as they clear the final rise of the approach to the castle. It sets something at ease in him at last to see them all, Vex’ahlia unharmed, her bear beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you all well,” he says. He can’t quite keep his eyes from Vex. “Come, let’s get you all inside. What can we do to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a one of them makes a word of complaint as he herds them all to the parlour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gilmore’s resting,” he offers as they walk. “And his assistant is keeping an eye on him. The Empress and her children are in the castle too. They’re all safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at least a little relieved to hear that but none of them look happy. Instead they all look tired, even ever-energetic Scanlan, all of them have clothes or armour somewhat singed and Percy’s almost glad of the years he spent under the Briarwoods’ thumbs if it lets him notice small details he’d otherwise miss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just wishes Anna were here. Anna, at least, would know what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end, Vox Machina do not need him lingering in the corner to create some plans. He at least can assure them that he’ll keep Whitestone safe, keep things running, that he’ll see the research on the ziggurat continued, see about extending the caverns into shelters should the dragons return. As winter continues it’ll be something the quarrymen can do to stay occupied; better this than trying to mine whitestone in knee-deep snows. With the amount of excess </span>
  <em>
    <span>residuum</span>
  </em>
  <span> and whitestone chips in the caverns below they should be well in stock for trade regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, though, there is little that he himself can truly do and he hates feeling useless. It is hard </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to feel useless against </span>
  <em>
    <span>dragons.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He suspects, as everyone slowly falls quiet, that they’re feeling much the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish we could have done </span>
  <em>
    <span>more,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keyleth says quietly. Gently, Vex pats her hand. “Just-” she continues, gesturing. “All of Emon-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trails off to silence. None of the others move to say anything; from their expressions Percy thinks they’re all feeling much the same. As though those few they saved were not enough, as though they should have done more - as though they’ve forgotten already that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>plan</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do more, that- well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve already done more than Percy was able to do, those years ago. They’ve already saved lives, already put plans in place. Percy knows that is far from nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he offers. “Even if it comes to nothing - that matters. You saved lives. You brought them here. None of them will forget that. Even if you don’t manage to stop the Conclave and return them home, you still saved their lives and gave them a new one.” It sounds trite to his own ears to say it; from their faces he suspects it sounds so to them as well. “Believe me,” he says, quiet but clearly. His hands twist in his lap. “It doesn’t matter if this ends up changing anything. If you can give them back Emon or anything else. When they had nothing else, they had help. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> matters to them right now.” He glances over them all, swallows around a lump in his throat. “That matters to them more than anything. When they had nothing, when they’d lost everything, people still </span>
  <em>
    <span>helped.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They won’t forget that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows from his own experience: they </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You never forget the hand that reached out when you had nothing, the hand that, in its way, gave you everything. He can see them contemplating, which is something, and he swallows again to try to remove the lump in his throat, tries to move to an easier topic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” he says, more lightly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have plans. You have Whitestone as a place to fall back to. You have friends and allies already prepared to help - already helping. Those people you evacuated, they’re not alone. They have Yennen and the whole of Whitestone to assist them. And you’re not alone either: you have Whitestone, you have your friends - that Allura you mentioned, those acquaintances in Vasselheim. It doesn’t matter what </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been. You can’t change that. What matters and what you can change is what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment they’re all quiet. Keyleth at least looks less teary-eyed, Vex less drawn. Cass is chewing her lip in a grumpy fashion, how she always had as a child when dissatisfied with an outcome - that usually means trouble and Percy can only hope it’s for the Conclave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Vax’ildan says. “I think what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now is that I want lunch. I’m starved.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lunch is almost concerningly animated, as though Vox Machina wants to hide worry and anxiety behind conversation and jokes. The only ones who don’t seem to be are Cassandra and Vex; even Keyleth lets herself be pulled into something approaching hopeful good humour by the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t overstep the mark with his earlier interjection and it’s easier to sit to one side and quietly eat his lunch than wonder if he’s not revealing more than he intends each time he opens his mouth. He really ought to know better than to speak openly of emotion by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vox Machina at least keep themselves occupied. In amongst their lively conversation they all make plans, things to do for the day and though he’d hoped to perhaps take Vex aside to look over the ledgers he knows he can’t drag her away from this. Instead, he must find something to occupy himself as everyone peels off after lunch. He’d completed what work he had the day before as briskly as he could and done all the preparation he could for today; he doesn’t actually have that much paperwork left and little that requires his personal attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he goes to the old labs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s started clearing them out one by one. If they are to continue to refine whitestone down to </span>
  <em>
    <span>residuum</span>
  </em>
  <span> - assuming it does serve any purpose aside from what the Briarwoods sought, assuming anyone’s left to buy it when the Conclave is all dealt with - the refinery below and the one beside Anna’s chambers should suffice. The others are - surplus, really, more usually given over to their private experiments, small things to keep them entertained against the drudgery of doing the same thing day in and day out. The lab that had once been his own is largely empty and Percy sits down at the workbench and rolls up his sleeves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perusing Anna’s books allowed him to identify what he’d cast at the ziggurat - a simple fire bolt, though it hardly feels simple now, as he tries to replicate it once more. For all he knows it’ll prove perfectly useless and with circumstances as they are, Percy isn’t even entirely sure it’s worth it to continue to study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… he has yet to see what other magic he might manage, and if Whitestone is in the firing line for more trouble he’d like to have a firm idea of what help he’ll have to hand.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy joins them for dinner looking tired and drawn; he seems to be operating almost automatically as he takes the offered seat beside her. He’s honestly almost late, which strikes Vex; Percy’s largely proven punctual unless he completely forgets himself in work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy day?” she asks as he slides into the seat beside hers. Percy seems almost to start, seemingly still lost in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like,” he says, shaking his head slightly and moving to serve himself. “A lot to consider really, if we’re to become a safe haven from dragons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s more than they’ve dared to ask of him really - a temporary safe haven for the refugees, perhaps, but from the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>Conclave-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Percy and Cass are alike even if they do seem to disagree and distrust each other. Vex has had years to get used to Cassandra’s overblown sense of responsibility; it really shouldn’t surprise her that Percy’s likewise taking a greater weight on his shoulders than asked for the simple reason that he feels he must. If Cass is anything to go by, Vex suspects he feels he has a duty and to ignore it would be a moral failing on his part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good thing we asked Allura if she or anyone she knows might be able to have a look at the ziggurat,” she says. “With any luck, when she and her friend are able they’ll come and help. They might be able to help make some kind of a shield.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Against dragons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex shrugs. “Allura’s a wizard. A powerful one. And Gilmore - we don’t know what his source of magic is, but he’s powerful too. Between them and Yennen and Allura’s friend… maybe they’ll be able to put some kind of defence together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy doesn’t look at her, clearly focussed on his food, but there’s a smile on his face now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be good,” he says. “I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out when you’re all away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Conversion between them lulls and Vex turns back to watching the others. Scanlan and Grog are chatting, Vax occasionally joining in. Keyleth seems tired and drawn but is watching them all as well, stroking Trinket’s ears absently with one hand. Vex doesn’t expect Percy’s voice when he speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to be a rough few months,” he says between mouthfuls. “I, well- as trade is going to be impacted, I’d appreciate a second pair of eyes on the accounts, if you have a moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner done, the others head off to the usual parlour and it’s easy for Vex and Percy to make their way upstairs. Percy’s rooms are unchanged from the last time they were here apart from the ledgers to one side of his desk and she sits down, pulling the topmost one to her without fuss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The current page is already promising; Percy’s been using the exact method she showed him to keep track of everything, not an obvious error in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s quiet as she looks things over. He takes a chair from one corner to sit nearby but he keeps himself occupied with a book, not breathing down her neck in the least. Were he not noble-born she might almost think he trusts her with the ledgers - but he does, really, doesn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a strange thought, to be trusted so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a rough hour to check things over. It’s only been a few days of additions but to calculate likely trade impacts when the sheer scope of damage done by the dragons isn’t yet known isn’t easy. Percy keeps to himself until she asks his input, setting his book aside without fuss and leaning close, his arm warm against hers. Time passes surprisingly quickly like that, arm pressed to arm, comparison and calculations jotted down in her precise hand and Percy’s trained calligraphy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s everything for now?” Vex says, looking over the ledger one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the accounts for now,” Percy agrees and sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You know, I don’t know what I’d do with this but for you,” he admits, relief clear in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maths not your strong suit?” Vex teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maths is absolutely my strong suit,” Percy replies, mock-offended. “But this isn’t maths. This is a dark sorcery I have no hope of ever grasping and so I must throw myself on your tender mercies to get any of it to make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs at that, at Percy’s exasperation but equal sincerity. It’s easy to laugh when the admiration is clear in his eyes. This, she reminds herself, is why she doesn’t think Percy is like half the other posh pricks she’s ever met. He’s unabashed in his appreciation of her skills. Percy’s smiling too, looking at her with a strangely soft expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you must be exhausted,” he says quietly. “But, ah. Would you want to take a turn around the gardens with me? You and Trinket? The groundskeepers have been replanting with some of the rejuvenated shrubs from the forest and I find it very soothing before bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She always goes for a walk before bed, if only to make sure that Trinket’s had some fresh air. More than once Percy has joined them but, she thinks, this is the first time he’s asked her to join him, instead of the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” she says, shutting the ledger and rising, extending a hand to Percy. “Lead the way, Lord de Rolo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy pulls a face. “Please don’t,” he says, even as he takes her hand, tucking it over his arm. “Formal occasions only, if you absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>must.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whitestone is beautiful in the moonlight - not just the looming castle but the town spread out down below, hemmed in on all sides by farmland and forest, the Sun Tree huge and green in it’s centre, moonlight silvering the edges of its new leaves. Percy’s eyes glance over to it from the moment they step outside, something to his expression Vex doesn’t think she’s ever seen. When he catches her looking he smiles almost sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s trying to thrive again,” he says. “And- I rather think it will, given half a chance. If I can, I want to give it that chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something so earnest in his voice, genuinely hopeful. If she didn’t know what he and Cass had been through she might almost call him naive, innocent as a schoolboy, but no, he’s not blind to just how fragile everything is. There’s determination in his voice too. Vex knows what Cass will do if she feels she must; Vex wonders how far Percy will go to protect what he cares about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky,” Vex says softly. He glances down to her, brow raised and she gestures down towards town. “You have your home. You’re in a position to protect it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He half-laughs. “I- I’m in a position to </span>
  <em>
    <span>lead</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, I don’t know about ‘protect it’. I rather think that’s what you and your friends are doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an almost absurd idea - that they might protect Whitestone when they hadn’t even been able to stay and protect Greyskull, let alone Emon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved those refugees,” he reminds her. “And you have a plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t even know if it will </span>
  <em>
    <span>work,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says. “You know Grog charged right at one of the dragons with his axe when they attacked, landed a blow right on its face, but he couldn’t cut through its scales? And he’s tougher than any of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy doesn’t seem the least bit deterred. “You’re gathering allies though,” he points out. She doesn’t know how he can sound so reasonable. “You’re gathering allies, you have people you can ask for help or advice. You’re undoubtedly going to get into scraps before you face the dragons, so you’ll have a chance to get stronger, to gather more people to your side, and you have here to retreat to, to gather that strength. It isn’t going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> you against them all-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words bubble up before he finishes speaking. “We couldn’t even defend our home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy falls immediately silent, his eyes bright and blue behind his glasses, silver frames shining in the moonlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The white attacked Greyskull and the only reason it isn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>complete wreck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is because the red told it to leave. It froze Trinket and Pike’s the only reason he’s not dead. She managed to get some of Greyskull’s damage repaired and to heal some of the people who arrived during that fight, but we couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not if the red knew we were there and we were fighting, not when we’d brought refugees there out from under its nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She falls silent, wondering if Percy even understands. He’s not a fighter, she knows that. He spent the five years in which his family home was occupied </span>
  <em>
    <span>working,</span>
  </em>
  <span> terrified out of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dragons are possessive,” he says softly. “No, I can’t imagine you could have stayed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greyskull is the first place a lot of us have had to call home in </span>
  <em>
    <span>years,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vex says and it’s okay, it’s okay to admit it when she talks as though it’s all of them and not just her. “We found Cass in a cell, Grog and Pike have a home in Westruun - but that might be destroyed too now for all we know. Scanlan had nowhere, Keyleth can’t go home properly until her Aramenté is done, Vax and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts herself off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy draws them to a halt, gently unlooping their arms and standing in front of her. They’re right by the balustrade at the very edge of the overlook above town, stone silver-white in the moonlight, grass silver-grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex,” Percy says softly. His hands are gentle on her elbows. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t fully know what to make of Percy. She wishes she did but she doesn’t. He’s formal and friendly by turns, able to keep calm through so many things except when suddenly faced with his sister. It reminds her of many things, that calm, of Syldor and Syngorn and the disappointed looks on every elf’s face she’s ever met, except Percy never seems disappointed in his calm. Even now, even after outbursts Syldor would have tutted over, outbursts she never allows herself anymore - there’s nothing in his face but gentle concerned kindness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks: if Percy is anything like his sister then he has too much understanding to be cruel with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The red killed our mother and burned our home to ashes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like someone inserted a rod of steel in place of Percy’s spine; he straightens to his full height, pulls his shoulders back to full formal posture and there’s steel in his eyes too, same as in his voice when speaking determinedly of Whitestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says. For a moment he’s quiet before, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to make of his tone. It’s almost like - almost like the placid, exhausted tone of his words when they’d fought the Briarwoods, empty of anything else but purpose, but his voice isn’t empty now. There’s something very much like Cassandra’s burning rage in there now, something decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, we can’t have that</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s likely to be rapidly followed by daggers in dangerous places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth,” he says, and it’s not his easy offer of help after they’d arrived but something formal, more a declaration. “You have Whitestone’s assistance in the fight against the Conclave, whatever little we can give you. And, when this is all over-” and he says it with such surety, as though it </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be over, as though it’s already decided “-then you will have Whitestone’s aid should Greyskull require rebuilding.” He pauses for a moment, chuckles to himself. “Though- I think if you should end up saving Emon single-handedly for a third time, Emon rather owes it to you to fund what repairs it can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it can,” she says quietly. “It’s a ruin itself right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be fixed,” Percy says. He says that confidently too, but he hasn’t seen the fiery chasms rent in the city’s structure, the way so much of it has been completely annihilated. “Everything broken can be fixed or rebuilt one way or another. All it takes is time and determination to see it done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to see the doubt on her face though because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiles</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the very least, if Emon and Greyskull aren’t easy to fix- you know you are all more than welcome to consider Whitestone home. You’ve done so much for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> known that. Cassandra had assured them that Whitestone would be fine to fall back to, but that’s the assurance of someone for whom Whitestone </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> home. That welcome hardly encompasses all of them, even with what they’ve done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, ah-” he continues before cutting himself off, chewing over his words. “Before your return to Emon I had considered asking if you’d stay in Whitestone as our treasurer. I honestly can’t think of a single person better qualified.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s… Vex hasn’t a single word but her surprise and scepticism have to be visible on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t ask now,” he says with humour. “I know- I don’t imagine you’d abandon your friends to fight on their own against a dragon for anything, let alone these specific ones. But, ah-” He looks almost sheepish again, uncertain but earnest all the same. “I do enjoy your company a great deal. And I… I honestly don’t know what I’d do with the accounts but for you. If you ever do decide you want a home, a place to settle… you’d be welcome in Whitestone. More than welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not lying. There’s something too earnest in his eyes and his expression and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>voice</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him to be lying. And besides - Percy hasn’t yet lied to her, not that she’s noticed. If anything, this is the opposite of a lie, this is a truth so open and honest it almost hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were a great friend to my sister when she was a nobody in a cell. You have been a great friend to Whitestone in setting us free of the Briarwoods. You are- I dare say you are a great friend to me as well, with all the help you’ve given me with the accounts and- with the accounts.” There’s a faint flush to his cheeks as he says this; Vex has no doubts as to what it is he’s dodging around mentioning, painfully proper as he is. “You have a place here,” he says. “If you should want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve known each other only a matter of weeks. They’ve known each other not even a month. Vex would almost be worried about how rapidly he seems to understand her, how easily he sets about setting her fears to rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says, looking up at him. “Shall we go to bed?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if you're having fun here, feel free to come and visit me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>. Likewise, if you have thoughts or feedback - or just simply enjoyed this - please leave a comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Good god,” he says as he takes them in. He can’t help it, his gaze keeps returning to Vex, so much less vibrant than she usually is. “What in the world <i>happened</i> to you?”</p><p>“Well,” Scanlan says, but even his voice sounds hollow, bereft of his usual humour. “We fought a beholder. And Vex died.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vox Machina leave the next day for Vasselheim, Keyleth once more opening a portal through the Sun Tree. Percy feels almost restless in their absence; he knows he’s more useful here but not unlike with Anna, Vex’s absence leaves him feeling anxious. It’s not just that he finds her presence a comfort, her capability and usual confidence clarifying and helpful. Honestly, after waking that morning in her bed, he’d felt something close to peaceful.</p><p>But things will be fine. Vex is capable, they’re travelling to see friends and allies. When they’re done they’ll be back here, no more than a day or two at most. They’re making the first steps towards seeing the Conclave gone. To making the country and its people safe. Then, perhaps, when things are well again, he can wake in Vex’ahlia’s bed and feel peaceful.</p><p>In the meantime he can damn well contain his anxiety and <em> work. </em> He’d managed it for years before. He can manage it now.</p><p>In her absence, he needs to keep Whitestone running and safe and a reliable place to return to. He has a job to do and Percy is not about to fail in his work. He never has before.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They arrive back the very next day and they all look <em> terrible. </em> Percy’s waiting in the entryway for them as soon as the guard had notified him to their arrival and-</p><p>He’d thought this was a trip to find allies and help, not… not whatever would cause <em> this. </em></p><p>Vex is pale and wan as she never is, one hand on Trinket and her brother close by her side. A crimson tiefling woman Percy’s never seen before is on Trinket’s other side, ahead even of Keyleth, keeping a close eye on Vex over the bear’s ears, a tanned man with mismatched eyes that Percy’s <em> also </em> never seen before by her. Cassandra is almost shadowing Vax’ildan; when she’s too obvious about it he scowls at her, not playfully as they’ve been before but something genuinely almost <em> angry. </em></p><p>Grog trails behind them, a short, fierce halfling beside him, and Scanlan - Scanlan is silent.</p><p>Every one of them is scraped up and battered, dried blood marking where healing magic has sealed up cuts and grazes. From how tenderly some of them hold themselves, he’s reasonably sure some of them have broken bones or strained muscles.</p><p>“Good god,” he says as he takes them in. He can’t help it, his gaze keeps returning to Vex, so much less vibrant than she usually is. “What in the world <em> happened </em> to you?”</p><p>“Well,” Scanlan says, but even his voice sounds hollow, bereft of his usual humour. “We fought a beholder. And Vex died.”</p><p>He glances to Vex for confirmation, but for all she shrugs she doesn’t deny it. Percy feels like all the air’s been yanked out of his lungs.</p><p>She <em> died.</em> </p><p>He wants nothing more than to pull her close and remind himself that she’s real, she’s alive, she’s right here in front of him but he doesn’t dare with so many people present, with three absolute strangers here.</p><p>“Good god,” he manages, his heart thundering in his throat. “Let’s get you all inside,” he says, gesturing. “Inside and fed, and warm baths and hot fires. Let’s get you all taken care of.”</p><p>He doesn’t miss how closely Vax’ildan keeps to Vex’ahlia’s side.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>What happened comes out slowly over dinner. They’d met some people and thus accumulated help in the form of the halfling, Lady Kima, the tiefling, Zahra Hydris, and the tiefling’s human companion, Brother Kashaw Vesh. The precise details of how they know them all is somewhat skimmed over but from what Percy gathers, they’re trusted as friends and allies both, and strong enough to help. They’d gone to some of the temples Vasselheim is so famed for, learned of powerful artefacts that might serve to make up the difference between their current strength and the resilience of dragons and in doing so learned of where one might be hidden.</p><p>The deathwalker’s ward, ancient, powerfully enchanted armour worn by a champion of the Raven Queen, long-since buried in it’s bearer’s tomb, the tomb itself long lost beneath a loch.</p><p>A tomb since infested with a kuo-toa cult and a relatively young beholder.</p><p>“Young doesn’t mean weak, though,” Madam Hydris comments. “And the kuo-toa I think had been worshipping it.”</p><p>She’s still sat beside Vex, Vax’ildan at Vex’ahlia’s other side. Madam Hydris’ companion stays close to her other side and Cassandra, still acting the part of Vax’ildan’s shadow, is at his other side. Percy has had to content himself with sitting opposite Vex, quietly sliding her the basket of fresh bread, a mug of hot tea and the tureen of soup as required. Even Trinket is edged out, sat behind his mistress and looking quite put out by the fact.</p><p>Madam Hydris, at least, seems to see how Vex is bridling under all the observation. Her interjections as Scanlan retells what happened seem to both correct exaggerations and try to draw away from the anxiety of everyone in the room; her presence at least, doesn’t seem to bother Vex’ahlia half as much as the way everyone else seems to be either clinging close or obviously worried.</p><p>“I read some of their inscriptions,” Madam Hydris adds. “The kuo-toa. They called the beholder Oyag but it didn’t seem to have been around them for very long. With it gone, hopefully the kuo-toa will be keeping to themselves.”</p><p>Percy makes himself nod; it’s not as though it <em> matters, </em> not to him, not right now. Vasselheim is far away, the Marrowglade Loch where this all happened farther still, they have dragons on their doorstep and Vex’ahlia <em> died. </em></p><p>But he’s not blind to what Madam Hydris seems to be trying to do. Vex’ahlia has more than once proclaimed to be fine since they’ve all sat down, but she does seem tired, increasingly irritable every time her brother fusses over her. Percy rather suspects she wants to be left alone or at the very least <em> believed </em> when she says she’s fine, and Madam Hydris seems to have taken the hint. As soon as she and Brother Kashaw have finished eating, the tale fully told, she kisses Vex once-twice on each cheek before gesturing for her companion to join her and allowing a servant to guide them to their rooms. </p><p>Lady Kima follows not long after, Grog going with and saying something about showing her a place to work out. It almost seems a cue; Scanlan follows, Keyleth eyeing the door, and Vex’ahlia rises, Trinket with her and Vax’ildan scrabbles to follow suit. </p><p>The halls, Percy thinks, are going to be packed this evening. He sets his napkin to one side and follows at a slight distance, catching up as they reach the stairs. As he watches, Vex shakes off her brother’s hand, walking with one hand on Trinket’s left ear, gently skritching and striding quickly ahead. As Vax’ildan and Cassandra lag behind, Cass seems to try to tug him aside, something whispered and hasty and apologetic, Keyleth coming to a halt with them. Percy has no patience to listen; Vex speeds up as soon as her brother is distracted, hurrying on to her room and Percy’s lucky to snag her hand before she vanishes inside.</p><p>“I’m <em> fine,” </em> she says, clearly exasperated and Percy can’t help the swell of fondness he feels.</p><p>“I believe you,” he says and, now at least, he truly does. She’s perked up over dinner, food and warmth doing her clear good; she seems basically back to normal. She seems to relax, hearing him say that, but at a glance down the hall she opens her door and tugs him inside.</p><p>“Trinket?” she says and the bear <em> mrawls. </em> “Don’t let my brother in, all right? Sit on him if you have to.” The bear <em> mrawls </em> once more and Vex shoves her door shut with a sigh, leaning against it. Percy finds himself quite content just watching her.</p><p>“I’m very glad you’re alright,” he says softly. “Though I imagine you’re quite tired of hearing that.”</p><p>“Oddly enough,” Vex says. “No one’s actually led with that yet.”</p><p>It must be the relief at seeing her close to her usual self again, because he laughs. “No,” he says as Vex smiles for the first time since she arrived. “I suppose they wouldn’t.”</p><p>From the other side of the door they hear Trinket <em> mrawl </em> loudly, Vax’s voice sounding almost pleading before a loud grunt that suggests Trinket has actually done as Vex asked and sat on him. Keyleth’s voice is briefly heard, pleading and scolding by turns before a <em> mrawl, </em> a very Vax’ildan-sounding yelp, and something, even muffled by the door, that sounds like Keyleth giving an emphatic <em> thank you. </em> Then there’s nothing but silence.</p><p>After a moment, Vex snorts. Then, without warning, she starts laughing, clear genuine peals of it as she leans against the door. “Oh thank fucking god,” Vex says, between laughter. Then, louder, “Good boy, Trinket! Keep an eye out for him for me, okay?”</p><p>There’s a <em> mrawl </em> from the other side of the door, the heavy clanking sounds of Trinket sitting firmly down.</p><p>Vex is still smiling, her breaths occasionally pausing around intermittent chuckles, but they’re relaxed now, and Percy lets out a long breath.</p><p>“God, but I’m glad you’re alright,” he says. And then, softer lest anyone outside hear: “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>He wonders if he should have expected Vex pushing off from the door and making the two steps needed to close the distance between them but by that point her lips are on his, warm and eager and <em> alive, </em> and honestly he hasn’t much thought other than to hold her and kiss back. His hands find her hips, pulling her close, and hers are already on his, pulling at his shirt until her hands reach bare skin. He moves to do the same to her as she sets in on buttons - his waistcoat, his shirt, his trousers - his fingers finding smooth warm skin, occasional scars. As he slides his hands up to her ribcage he can feel each inhale and exhale she makes, ribs moving, lungs expanding.</p><p>
  <em> Alive, alive, alive. </em>
</p><p>For a moment - for a handful of them, for who knows how long, honestly - it is easy to simply revel in the fact that she is <em> here </em> and she is <em> alive. </em> He breaks the kiss, presses his forehead to hers and he hears her laugh, sees as she leans back and shucks her shirt without fuss before tugging at his, already unbuttoned by her deft hands, his waistcoat gaping open.</p><p>He thinks he might just love her.</p><p>He presses his lips to her cheekbone, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her jaw, finds her lips again wishing he could breathe out that new secret into the minute space between them where no one else can hear, but he doesn’t quite dare.</p><p>“Percy,” she says against his lips. “Clothes.”</p><p>He laughs, kisses her once, twice, pulls off his waistcoat and shirt to join her clothes on the floor. She’s already pried off leggings and boots and socks it seems and it’s a matter of moments to follow suit, to touch his hands to her skin again. Warm skin, old scars, the movement of her ribcage rising and falling. He lifts his hands to cup her face and there, just against the tips of his fingers he can feel her pulse, speeding but steady, <em> there. </em></p><p>He lets out a long breath, some before-unrecognised tension in his shoulders relaxing, and he kisses her again. From how she kisses back there seems to be only one way for this night to go.</p><p>Somehow they stumble to the bed. Vex doesn’t leave clutter about luckily; aside from their clothes and shoes there’s little to dodge. Vex falls back onto the bed, pulling him with her and he follows readily, shifting down her body to kiss her jaw, the pulse at her neck, her collarbones, the strange new scar on her breastbone that he thinks can only come from whatever killed her.</p><p>But she’s not dead now. Right now she’s warm and alive beneath him and he presses another kiss to her breastbone before travelling lower.</p><p>Vex is alive. With any luck she’ll stay so. Right now, Percy wants to remind them both of that.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He almost wants to gather her to him when they’re done, to hold her close as he would with Anna. Vex seems content where she is though, splayed comfortably on her back, one of her hands on his and… it’s nice, he thinks, as he reaches for a cloth to wipe them both clean with.</p><p>Given everything, he doesn’t think Vex would appreciate being tended to; when he’s done with the cloth he passes it to her, lets her wipe herself clean.</p><p>For a while they simply lay there, breathing evening out. When Percy glances to one side he can see the pulse jumping at Vex’s throat. </p><p>“I needed that,” Vex admits after a moment. It’s almost a mirror of the first time they did this. “Everyone making such a fuss - it’s hard to appreciate being alive when everyone’s still stuck on the fact that a few minutes earlier you weren’t.”</p><p>“I think,” Percy says tentatively. “That they’ll relax soon. I think- mostly I think they need the reminder that you <em> are </em> still here with them, after that.” He tilts his head to glance over to her. “They’ll relax soon. You’re strong and capable - they just need the reminder.”</p><p>“Hmph.” The sound is almost definitely a scoff and Percy turns to look at her again, confused. Vex is shaking her head.</p><p>“I’m not half as strong as you seem to think I am,” Vex says, and he rolls from his back to his side to face her. He doesn’t know what to make of the look on her face and he frowns, reaching for her. </p><p>“Vex?”</p><p>“You heard me.”</p><p>“I- yes, but-” He pauses, trying to find the words. “I don’t think anyone’s as strong or not as people think they are. Even you. But I don’t doubt that you’re strong nonetheless.”</p><p>“It’s all just a mask, darling,” she says, shaking her head, and, as gently as he dares, he strokes his knuckles across her cheek. </p><p>“At least in my experience,” he says, swallowing. “A good enough mask might as well be the truth for those who can’t see through it. And keeping one in place even when terrified or worried is its own kind of strength, I think.”</p><p>She scoffs and half-bats his hand away. “That’s not the same.”</p><p>“No,” he agrees. “But- I don’t think you’re strong because you act confidently, Vex’ahlia.” He offers a smile. “It’s certainly not why I enjoy your company.” She raises an eyebrow at that, an expression half teasing and half threatening and he scrambles to explain why that statement doesn’t go simply back to sex. “You’re clever,” he says. “You’re kind and you’re clever and you- you <em> care </em> - about people, about things that matter. I don’t-” He doesn’t know how to tell her how much it means that she chose to care about him even when they were almost strangers. He doesn’t know if he <em> should.</em> </p><p>Whispering through his mind, Anna’s old reminder. <em> Never say that. Not where anyone might hear. </em></p><p>Deniability built into every ounce of honesty. </p><p>“You’re a more genuine person than most I’ve known these past five years,” he finally settles on. “And you remind me not to be so serious all the time. It’s-” He sighs. <em> “That’s </em> why I enjoy your company. Beyond-” He waves his hand at them, at the bed. “This.”</p><p>The silence stretches but Percy doesn’t feel worried. Vex’s gaze has softened, something almost- something softer than even Anna’s eyes could be, watching him and Percy doesn’t know how to describe how that makes him feel.</p><p>“Besides,” he adds, throat tight. “Do you think I don’t know how much strength it takes to seem calm when you’re not? I spent five years-”</p><p>“With a vampire, a necromancer and the most amoral scientist in existence,” Vex says. “I remember.”</p><p>He can’t quite contemplate so baldly saying something quite so judgemental about Anna but-</p><p>“Yes,” he says. “I had- I had to see the Briarwoods most days. And- Anna wasn’t always able to be there for me. I know very well how difficult it is to seem calm when you’re the farthest thing from it.” He swallows, sighs. “There’s more than one kind of strength,” he says. “And- I know, I know very well, that it doesn’t <em> feel </em> strong to just keep a calm face when you’re terrified. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. That doesn’t mean that managing it isn’t it’s own kind of strength.”</p><p>He rolls onto his back, stares up at the ceiling.</p><p>“I think,” he says softly. “That most of us are scared of something or other. And- it can be hard to admit that. Sometimes it’s not <em> safe </em> to admit that. Sometimes if we admit it, we cause problems greater than by hiding it. And- it can hurt, to have to hold all that fear inside and not let it out. But I don’t think that’s a lack of strength. I, ah- if anything, I think being able to do that shows great strength of will. I- it doesn’t feel it. It certainly doesn’t <em> feel </em> it. But- I know, I think, why you don’t feel as though you’re terribly strong. And yet, to have survived all that you have, I think you have to have <em> some </em> strength.” </p><p>Vex huffs a laugh, so he must be saying something right and he pauses, mulls over his words.</p><p>“Something Anna taught me,” he says slowly, feeling each word out before he says it. “Almost indirectly really; I think she expected me to figure it out on my own. But- something she taught me was that- to face fears without crumbling isn’t easy. It’s exhausting and leaves you feeling more weak than anything. And- and we do need someone we can let that out with, someone we <em> don’t </em> have to pretend around. She had me and I her; you have… any of us you choose to go to, I think.” He tilts his head to look at her, heart halfway to his throat. “It doesn’t make you weak,” he says. “Wanting someone to whom you can take your fears. I think, if anything, it just makes you a person.”</p><p>For a moment Vex is quiet. He doesn’t look away from her but he doesn’t- he’s not sure if what he’s said is right, if spilling out emotions and secrets is the way to fix this but when Vex speaks it’s not at all what he expects.</p><p>“You called her amoral,” Vex says. “Ripley. But-”</p><p>She sounds confused and Percy can’t entirely blame her. He’s not entirely sure what he was thinking when he said that. It’s true; Anna was amoral at times, looking more at their purpose and their survival than the precise morality of what they must do in order to survive. He highly doubts she had played within any kind of rules when it came to dealing with Anders. But… he’d never admit it so baldly. Without explaining.</p><p>“You sound so fond of her,” Vex says. “I know- you said that you loved her, but-”</p><p>“She saved my life,” he says. <em> Of course I loved her. </em> “And-” It’s not easy to admit it now but he’s said it already so he might as well continue. “Yes, she was amoral. It’s- honestly, it’s part of what made her brilliant. She knew she didn’t always consider the morality of actions but- honestly, I’m not sure we would have survived if she’d been otherwise. And- it can be useful. To weigh without judging the morality of something, to simply see just how effective would be. It can’t be your only method but- it can help sometimes, to strip things down to the bare basics.”</p><p>“Another thing she taught you?” she asks. There’s something almost sceptical to her tone, a little wary about Anna ever since he’d admitted how much he’d loved her. Vex, he thinks, may well not like Anna but… she’s never obvious about it, not the fierce loathing Cassandra seems to have for his old tutor. He doesn’t even think Vex is jealous, not because of the promise she made but because she doesn’t seem to begrudge him his lingering affection. She just seems… almost concerned, if anything.</p><p>He settles for a smile and a nod, shifting closer to Vex. “It’s what saved us,” he says. “Many times. She always- she saw things clearly. She did what was necessary. Without her- she saved us from Anders, when he started causing problems. And- perhaps it wasn’t the most ethical thing, what she did but- we could well have ended up dead if she hadn’t.” He pauses, glancing down to where their fingertips brush. “Sometimes, you have to focus on what is necessary rather than what is kind or good. Sometimes, you don’t have any other option.”</p><p>“No,” Vex agrees. Her voice is unusually quiet, something in her eyes at once soft and knowing.</p><p>“And for what it’s worth,” he says, taking her hand in his and lifting her knuckles to his lips. “I think the world is a far better place with you in it.”</p><p>“Percy-”</p><p>“We’ve known each other three weeks,” he says, agreeing with her scepticism for now. “But- from everything I’ve seen, you <em> care. </em> You offered kindness to me when we were strangers. You took Cassandra in when she was imprisoned in a cell. Even now, even after you’ve <em> died </em> you’re still trying to help complete strangers against these dragons. And Madam Hydris seems like a discerning sort. I hardly think she’d have been half so worried if you hadn’t given her cause to care about you.” He kisses Vex’s fingers again. “You care. You try to help. And- that matters. The world is better for your presence in it.”</p><p>“Percy.” Vex’s voice is terribly soft, her eyes liquid, her hand gentle on his cheek. Percy desperately wishes he could tell her how much he loves her as her lips press to his.</p><p>He doesn’t think he’s imagining the dampness in her eyes.</p><p>“Come on,” she says gently, pressing close against him, her head tucked under his chin. “Let’s sleep.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Vex wakes early, still tucked against Percy. His arms loop around her, gently and somehow not enclosing. As she disentangles herself he blinks blearily awake before reaching for his glasses.</p><p>“Good morning,” he manages before yawning. “Sleep well?”</p><p>He looks so completely unawake still she can’t help but laugh.</p><p>“Better than you I think, darling.”</p><p>He makes no objection to that, just hums as he rolls enough away for her to start to get up. It’s a brisk matter to dress and tidy the room a little; Percy’s clothes she sets on the chest at the foot of her bed before opening the door. For a bear bereft of a comfy bed of blankets last night, Trinket seems largely unbothered, happy to let her fuss him before pushing through into the room itself and nosing briefly at where Percy is still in her bed.</p><p>She doesn’t miss Percy’s slight yelp at the press of Trinket’s cold nose.</p><p>“Come on,” she says, completely refusing to hide her smile. “Breakfast. And there’s something in the pendant we found in the tomb; we’re going to have to find a safe place to let that out today. We’ll probably want you to weigh in.”</p><p>It’s with only a slightly disgruntled noise that Percy pushes himself out of bed and starts dressing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The hike to the giant’s fortress is easy enough, if time consuming and exhausting for being almost entirely uphill. Percy keeps up with them all without complaint though; she’d been prepared to offer to let him ride Trinket if he started to lag, but if he is tired he’s not showing it, seemingly determined to join them and weigh in on whatever dangerous thing Purvan Suul might have kept in his necklace.</p><p>Halfway up the path Cass pulls Vex aside, earnestly trying to apologise for the day before but - Vex hadn’t lied when she’d woken to see them all around her; she hadn’t even realised she’d been <em> gone.</em> </p><p>“It was an accident,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not angry.” Cass’ face goes soft and tearful and, tentatively, Vex wraps an arm around her shoulders. Honestly, Cassandra and hugs are rarely seen together, but given Vax isn’t being his usual level of affectionate with Cass <em> someone </em> needs to assure her things are alright. “Cass,” she says. “Cassandra. We all make mistakes. I don’t blame you in the least.”</p><p>She has no way of knowing, yet, if Cassandra believes her, but she has no doubt they’ll see in time. As it is, they’ve got the rest of the way to hike and a mysterious creature to unleash. </p><p>The fortress is huge but, as before, entirely empty, little of worth remaining. They head down into the lower chamber, seeking a more contained place to let out… whatever is in the pendant, mull over what things they’ve heard it could be. </p><p>It’s when they let the creature out that things get interesting.</p><p>“That,” Percy says from where he stands in the corner of the chamber. “Is a <em> wolf. </em> Unusually marked and unusually large, certainly but-” he lets out a long breath through his nose, seemingly trying to calm himself. “That is a wolf.”</p><p>That it is, though it had been hard to tell given its sheer size and the scuffle between it, Grog and Keyleth and Vax nearby. Now things have stilled, it’s somewhat easier to discern. Unusually large, unusually marked - unusual intelligence bright in it’s eyes - but a wolf nonetheless. Vex remembers that Purvan Suul had apparently been a ranger; was this wolf his companion? She wracks her brain for its name.</p><p>“Vex’ahlia?” Percy’s tone is curious and she glances to where he stands, arms crossed, in the corner, well behind the rest of the group. They’d insisted on it, given his limited combat experience and lack of weapon - she has no idea where his exploding device has since gone. “Trinket is intelligent enough to understand all of us, is he not? Not just you but anyone who speaks to him?”</p><p>Vex shrugs. “He’s smart enough,” she says. “I’ve never really considered the specifics.”</p><p>He huffs a laugh. “I suppose not. But it is relatively standard with the companions of rangers such as yourself, yes? That they are more intelligent than the norm?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Vex says. She pauses. “What’re you getting at Percy?”</p><p>He gestures towards the wolf. “May I?”</p><p>Vax is still looking a prat on the ground, Keyleth beside him. Grog is still towering over - Galdric, that was Purvan’s companion’s name - as the only one the wolf seems willing to pay attention to.</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” she says. “Grog?”</p><p>The goliath shrugs and, carefully, Percy steps forward.</p><p>“I don’t yet know what they plan to do with you,” Percy says to the wolf. “But as it happens, we’re all rather in a pickle right now. There’s a number of dragons sitting on several rather important cities and we’re rather hoping to see them gone.” The wolf’s eyes have narrowed but, at least, it seems to be giving Percy the time of day. “Now, I’m not going to ask you to help us fight them because I think that would be both ridiculous and unfair, especially as we’re all still strangers. Given everything, I rather imagine you want a retirement more than anything.”</p><p>The wolf huffs, something almost a chuckle, it’s lips pulling back in what <em> would </em> be a threat display were this not the companion of a ranger. Vex recognises an animal trying to mimic a human’s smile, Galdric’s tongue lolling out like a dog to make it more clearly less threatening. Honestly, … he’s? better at it than Trinket.</p><p>“Yes,” Percy says quietly. “Well, below these mountains is a large forest called the Parchwood. Technically it falls under my purview as Lord of Whitestone but quite honestly it’s far too large for any one person to easily manage it. Even the Grey Hunt receives divine aid in tending it.” The wolf’s tail thumps against the ground, not wagging but more a <em> hurry up. </em> “All right,” Percy says. “Well, as I said, below us is the Parchwood. There’s a number of small townships and villages within it, farming hamlets and the like, and, of course, Whitestone itself. We’ve rather been through the wringer in the past few years and now, with the dragons, we’d rather like to stay <em> safe. </em></p><p>“The woods can be dangerous. There’s a lot of, ah- interesting things in there and, luckily, most of them stay far away from human habitation. But not all. If you would like a place to retire - the Parchwood can be yours. If the stories of you and your master are anything to go by, you’re an able hunter. All I’d ask is that you don’t attack locals or travellers unprovoked.”</p><p>The wolf watches, tail swishing slowly side-to-side as it watches Percy, head half-tilted.</p><p>“You’d be welcome to come to the castle should you ever require healing,” he adds, seemingly as a peace offering after Grog’s show of force. “And if you’d be willing to offer help that would be appreciated. But if all you want is a place to retire then the Parchwood is vast and full of things for you to hunt.”</p><p>Somehow, Percy’s weird formality seems to <em> work. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It takes them most of the rest of the day to return to Whitestone. Galdric departs to the woods as soon as they’re far enough down the slope that the treeline becomes significant once more and by midafternoon they’re walking the last stretch into Whitestone proper. It snows on them as they head up to the castle, winter still firmly churning on, but warm afternoon tea awaits them, and hot baths - and the baths at the castle are bigger than Vex has ever seen in her life; one day she’d like a bath like these all for herself.</p><p>Percy’s in her room when she returns, the ledgers and two letters in his hands and she sits down beside him still wrapped in a towel to look them over.</p><p>Turst Fields, it seems, has seen sense with regards to trade.</p><p>She dresses quickly, finds the ledger with her sheet of calculations tucked just inside. Percy seems content to let her work but she’s not going to be here all the time; she tugs him over, explains what she’s doing as she goes and he listens as attentively as ever.</p><p>It’s… surprisingly nice for them to sit there like that and as she comes to the end of one page, having passed the ones prior to Percy for perusal, she pauses. She doesn’t expect him to speak.</p><p>“How are you doing?” Percy’s voice is quiet, softly concerned but not prying. His gaze is similarly gentle as he watches her, paperwork forgotten between his hands.</p><p>“Fine,” she says and his face twists - not pitying but- there’s a definite note of worry to his frown nonetheless.</p><p>“Dear,” he says gently. “You died not a day ago. I- I am not going to fret over that now, because you’re alive and well but today you hiked up into the mountains to a destroyed giant fortress, tomorrow you plan to- to go to the very breach made by the monster dragon that caused all this to try to seal it and then on to find still more artefacts to let you kill these dragons - when seeking those artefacts got you killed once <em> already.” </em> The concern is more obvious, genuine worry, agitation and, Vex thinks, fear. “It’s all right to not be fine,” he says and Vex doesn’t know if he’s saying it for her sake or his. “Vex-”</p><p>She shakes her head, takes his hand gently in hers. “There’s too much to do,” she says, gesturing at their paperwork. “You understand that, I know you do. When this is all done I’ll take a moment, have a breather. But right now, I have more important things to attend to. We both do. We have people to help.”</p><p>“Vex’ahlia,” he says, softly and almost pleadingly. “You <em> died. </em> If whatever magic your friends had attempted had not been enough-”</p><p>“But it was,” she says. “It <em> was. </em> And I’ve got to trust it’ll be enough if, god forbid, it happens again because I can’t do <em> nothing </em> about all of this. Thordak-” <em> Killed my mother. Burned my birthplace to ashes. Destroyed the only home I’ve ever truly felt welcome in. </em></p><p>Percy’s face softens, his hand is gentle on her cheek and when he leans his head forwards for once it’s not to kiss her. Instead his forehead rests gently on hers. </p><p>“I know,” he says. It’s soft and accepting, completely unalike to his earlier worry and fear. “I’m sorry, dear.” She feels the soft huff of breath over her skin as he laughs. “I think perhaps I’ve spent too long doing my best to just survive terrible things to find it easy to contemplate directly challenging them.” His thumb strokes gently under her eye, along her cheekbone. “And, um. Call me selfish, but I really do not relish the thought of losing your company. For a few days as you- as you do work you care about and things you’ve always done is one thing, but you know, I, ah- I don’t think I’d know what I’d do if you were gone forever.”</p><p>She still doesn’t know entirely what to do with these strange soft moments of sincerity that Percy offers, but he never seems to expect the same sincerity back so she laughs and kisses his cheek.</p><p>“Well,” she says as she pulls back. “How about this - I’ll do my best to return unscathed.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” he says. “Intact and unhurt, if you please. I think we’ve all been through enough hurt to be deserving of at least a little time free of pain.”</p><p>That she can’t disagree with and as they return to work, it’s a comfortable, amiable partnership they fall to that Vex finds more soothing than she’d expected.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They join the others for the late light dinner that evening, and for conversation in the parlour afterwards. Vax is sitting with Keyleth again, chatting quietly, but Cassandra is nowhere near. Instead she slinks over to join Vex and Percy by the fire, making a fuss of Trinket as Scanlan starts trying to pick out a new song with Grog suggesting lyrics.</p><p>Honestly it’s almost peaceful chatting with Cassandra. There’s parts of the castle she’s been further exploring, checking over old secret passages she knows and Percy even seems to be paying half an ear though mostly he’s doodling in a sketchbook he’d fetched from his room. </p><p>As it darkens outside and Keyleth lights the candles and rushlights with a brisk cantrip Percy rises, pulling glasses and a decanter from a cupboard. He waves it at a few of them before pouring glasses for those interested; not for the first time Vex thinks that Percy’s making an effort to be a good host. How much of that is for sake of his sister and their friendship to her and how much is gratitude for what they’ve done for Whitestone Vex doesn’t know. Based on his smile as he hands her a glass she might almost think it’s because of <em> her, </em> though that’s utterly ridiculous.</p><p>Conversation lifts with the addition of drink, but they’ve nonetheless had a long and tiring day; it’s not all that long before Cass heads off to sleep, Keyleth and Vax following not long after. Scanlan and Grog linger longest, Scanlan still picking out his new song, Grog still suggesting lyrics, but before long they leave too.</p><p>Vex stretches out, resting her feet against Trinket’s warm belly where he rests by the fire and glances over to where Percy still sits on the other side of Trinket’s bulk. He’d set his sketchbook aside some time ago, pencil loose on the topmost page. Even from this distance, even with the flickering light, she can clearly see several sketches of Trinket.</p><p>Sitting in the quiet with just the crackle of the fire and Trinket’s snores is wonderfully soothing. She should have known it wouldn’t last.</p><p>“Have you ever-” Percy’s voice is soft as he stares past her out of the window behind her. “Have you ever simply <em> known </em> that a course of action was the best one, or the right one, but not for the life of you known why?”</p><p>It strikes Vex, Percy’s question. It sounds like something he seems to have been mulling over for a time; Vex wonders how much of him sketching was him using one task to occupy his hands as he thought.</p><p>“A few times,” Vex says softly. “It’s like an instinct? It tends to be easier to make sense of afterwards, why you thought that.”</p><p>Percy shakes his head. “Not this.” His voice is quiet; where he sits by the fireplace, the flames gone low, leaves his face cast in shadow. Glints of flame through the cut glass of his tumbler of drink and on the edges of his glasses are the only accents of light. “I knew- I knew when I saw Cassandra again what I would have to do. From the moment she said her plan. I knew she had a reason and that it was right. I knew I had to help.” He looks over to her, a confused, tortured look on his face. “But I knew I couldn’t too. That- that Anna, she’d saved my life. That I owed her. But also that- that she-”</p><p>“That she owed your family.” That, at least, was always the sense Vex had gotten from Cass about the whole matter.</p><p>“She worked with the Briarwoods,” he says. “I think- I think she knew them, had encountered them back in Wildemount before we employed her here. But- she saved my life.”</p><p>He says it softly, plaintively. Like this confusion roots back to that one fact. As though he cannot reconcile Cassandra’s hatred of Ripley with the woman who saved his life and that, as long as that block stays there, he isn’t going to be able to see each obvious discrepancy. Vex doesn’t know how to destroy such denial. In this instance, she doesn’t even think it wise to do so and so she sighs and crosses to him, taking the heavy-bottomed tumbler from his loose grip and crouching before him. Trinket stirs behind her but settles and Percy blinks, but meets her eyes when her free hand settles on his knee. </p><p>“Sometimes,” she says. “It’s hard to understand immediately. But- it helps to know that you had a reason at one point. Somewhere in your head-” and she lifts a hand with a smile, gently rapping his forehead with one knuckle and he smiles softly, eyes half-closing “-that reason is still there. You’ll find it again eventually.”</p><p>Percy’s smile grows, his frown relaxes. “That I believe,” he says. “I- ah. Thank you, Vex.” He grins self-deprecatingly. “Sorry for the melancholy.”</p><p>She pats his knee with one hand. “That’s quite all right, darling. Now-” and she downs the remaining portion of his drink, the liquor smoky but sweet, almost honeyed as it goes down. “Shall we to bed?”</p><p>Percy’s smile widens and he follows her happily upstairs to sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Calling the Beholder Oyag is from CritRoleStats - short for One Year Anniversary Gift. Mostly I just wanted to flesh out the scene a bit more.</p><p>I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and if so please leave a comment or come visit me on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She’s become rather fond of Percy and his strange sincerity. She just wishes she knew better what he was thinking. For all he answers her questions easily enough, Percy’s still capable of being an enigma - and she knows better than to trust his seeming sincerity will hold. She’s met a lot of noble pricks in her life. Most of them were very good liars.</p><p>“Oh, there you are.” Percy’s voice is so unexpected, sounds so <i>relieved,</i> that she turns to look at him immediately. “I was hoping to catch you,” he says and only then seems to take in her expression. “Ah. If that’s all right?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vox Machina are off again the very next day, off to Pyrah. It’s the very last day of the year and Percy can’t help but think it fitting in a way - last day of the year and, hopefully, the last day of that terrible rent between the material plane and the plane of fire. Keyleth wrings her hands over breakfast, fretful that they’re too late, that they’re not enough, that- who knows what.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All you can do is your best,” Percy says, passing her the dish of scrambled eggs. He thinks he understands, at least a little - she too is expected to rule her people one day, one fourth of the greater collective to which the Fire Ashari belong. He understands that sense of duty, how crushing it can be when one has no idea what to do; Keyleth’s worry now is terribly reminiscent of Whitney any time she had a role at a formal occasion, terrified she’d forget her lines. Keyleth reaches to take the dish and he holds it as she tugs so she looks up at him. “And Keyleth? If what you’ve done for Whitestone is any indication, </span>
  <em>
    <span>your best is very good.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile is tentative as he lets go of the dish, something more hopeful. She doesn’t stop the hand-wringing or occasional moments of stuttering uncertainty through breakfast but as they all prepare to head off down to the Sun Tree she stands up tall, Vax’ildan on one side and Vex and Trinket on the other. She looks, Percy thinks, perhaps a bit more confident.</span>
</p><p><span>The next day - New Dawn, the new year itself</span> <span>- is dull without them, but Percy has work and it’s… it’s something to do. It’s easy to bury himself in the monotony of it, accounts and letters and logistics, complaints from the townsfolk and worries from Yennen. In many ways, it feels not unlike before, and Percy finds it almost comforting but for the lack of Anna to report to, the lack of Vex’s comforting presence.</span></p><p>
  <span>And then, halfway through the first week, Percy gets a letter from cousins. Cousins who want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>visit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s nice leaving a place hopeful in their wake rather than half a ruin, Vex thinks, and Westruun is perhaps both by the time they step through Keyleth’s portal back to Whitestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s chilly as ever this far north but it doesn’t appear to have snowed in their absence - at least not recently. The roads are clear as they make their way through town and out of it, a guard already running ahead. Vex almost smiles; the guard will notify Percy and Percy will almost certainly ensure there’s food and warm baths and that their rooms are all prepared if they aren’t already. Whatever disagreement is ongoing between Cass and her brother, Percival’s never anything less than an excellent host.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a trace of snow as they leave the bounds of town and reach the rise towards the castle; without the town in the way or it’s warmth, they can see that there’s still an icy dusting over the surrounding Parchwood, snow gathered at the foot of some trees. As they make their way up, their breaths mist in the air; Vex is uncomfortably reminded of dragon’s breath, of Vorugal. Trinket beside her, at least, is utterly unbothered and she fusses at his ears to remind herself he’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clatter is all the warning they get before a luggage-laden carriage passes them and they leap to one side just as they finally crest the final approach to the castle. From this close it’s easy to see Percy in the entrance seemingly waving the carriage off and Cassandra frowns at it, craning her neck to try to get a good look at the crest emblazoned on it’s side - similar to Whitestone’s but with a wolf in place of Pelor’s sun, green for the lower third.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was that?” Cass asks as they near where Percy stands in the entryway. “I didn’t recognise the crest. Client nobles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Percy says as they all start to head inside, his expression wry. “No. That was- do you remember Cousin Ottokar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra presumably does because her face twists into the truly ugly look of disgust she only pulls out when she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>inherited?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cass says disbelievingly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s an idiot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cousin Albert had a riding accident, apparently,” says Percy. “And Ottokar married- oh what’s her name. Maribeth Cartarhaw from the nearby estate, if you remember, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> an idiot by any means.” He shrugs as they all head towards the parlour, only pausing as they set down their weapons by the door. “It seems that before Uncle Joseph and Aunt Adella died she somehow convinced them that even if Ottokar was as dim as Ruidus the estate would be better off in her and his hands than what remains of Cousin Albert’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell,” Cass says, throwing herself into a chair, for once heedless of the dirt on her cloak. From how the de Rolos are acting Vex would guess this is some old family practice: griping about the cousins. It’s kind of cute. “Has he run Wulfley into the ground yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seemingly not,” Percy says. He doesn’t settle into his usual chair instead heading for the drinks cabinet and offering something around. “If anything, it seems Maribeth’s actually running it rather well. So, ah, that was him and his eldest. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>fishing.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He says the last with a pointed look at his sister and settles into a chair, a glass of something in his hand. “Richenda at least is smart enough to take a hint; I loaned her a book on heredity and sent them packing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Cass says. “Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I thought- Otto’s mother was-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father’s eldest sister, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra once again pulls her disgusted face and Vex thinks she’s starting to see why. Percy had mentioned that people were fishing for marriage alliances - he hadn’t mentioned just how determined or closely-related some of them might be. She almost wants to ask why they were even </span>
  <em>
    <span>here;</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> Percy would have invited them-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then she doesn’t know Percy all that well, does she? For all she knows, beneath his apparent sincerity, he’s just like every other posh prick she’s ever known. She still hasn’t figured out why he’s so keen to keep their arrangement ongoing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass is already continuing the conversation: “They have to know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they care, frankly. Supposedly they came to drop off the estate accounts in person to ensure the tax records are up to date, but from how Otto was looking around I rather think he’s hoping to see himself installed here someday.” Percy snorts. “Not a bloody chance of it. They did bugger all while the Briarwoods were here and if he wrangled himself into inheriting Wulfley-on-Tye, then he can bloody well </span>
  <em>
    <span>manage</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wulfley-on-Tye. If he’s any sense at all, he’ll let Richenda inherit it instead of her brother. By all accounts she’s got twice the brains of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not a person says anything as the de Rolos settle in their seats. Vex wants to interject, to ask what the hell is going on. The sheer amount of luggage on the carriage wasn’t that of a brief trip, that was luggage for a several-day stay, that was a trip with some serious planning behind it - and Percy’s too smart not to know it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the quiet, Cass kicks her brother’s ankle lightly. “Oh, of course,” she says, tone teasing. “Sure you aren’t planning on merging the estates?” Percy frowns at his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m sure,” he says emphatically. “Richenda’s smart, certainly, and in other circumstances perhaps we’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But as it is, her mother’s dangerously clever, I don’t trust her father an inch, and I’ve got enough on my plate just keeping Whitestone above water with everything going on. I’m not about to go courting </span>
  <em>
    <span>trouble,</span>
  </em>
  <span> least of all when it’s so closely related to us already.” He pauses just long enough to take a breath. “That’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra’s grin is still there and she nudges Percy’s ankle again. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> be stupid,” she agrees, in the truest annoying sibling fashion Vex has ever heard. “So why not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask us about what we’ve been up to,” Vex cuts in. She looks pointedly at Cassandra, determined to feel bad about disrupting de Rolo sibling bonding later. “Some of that’s been pretty stupid too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t miss Percy’s relieved expression as his sister relents. She doesn’t miss Vax’s apparent concern either.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She avoids Vax. She’s got very good at it honestly; he might be the one to walk away 80% of the time, but she’s the one with the good hiding spots in the castle - admittedly, most of them she’s learned from Percy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows the questions her brother will ask. If she was stronger, perhaps she’d ask them of herself. It’s not like she hasn’t ditched lovers before when they start going in directions she doesn’t like, when she decides her ability to predict them isn’t good enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is, she’s become rather fond of Percy and his strange sincerity. She just wishes she knew better what he was thinking. For all he answers her questions easily enough, Percy’s still capable of being an enigma - and she knows better than to trust his seeming sincerity will hold. She’s met a lot of noble pricks in her life. Most of them were very good liars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there you are.” Percy’s voice is so unexpected, sounds so </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she turns to look at him immediately. “I was hoping to catch you,” he says and only then seems to take in her expression. “Ah. If that’s all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has no idea what he wants but his expression is earnest so she makes herself smile, forces some levity into her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, darling,” she says. She pats the ground beside her and tries not to show her surprise as Percy sits without a moment’s hesitation. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-” Percy says. “About earlier.” He pauses, clearly hesitant before pushing on. “Mostly,” he admits, “I wanted to see if you were all right. That segue earlier wasn’t your most deft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she says easily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve no idea,” he says. “But, ah- usually you navigate conversation far more subtly. And- I don’t think I was the only one to find that jump a little abrupt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t pry, though, doesn’t theorise why or lay out a further list. He just eyes her quietly, his hands in his lap. He doesn’t even ask again if she’s all right: she supposes he thinks the question obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he’s just giving her space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you doing this?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nice, certainly to the degree that Percy expresses it, isn’t normal for most highborn pricks Vex has encountered. It’s nice that he’s at least got tact and common sense; that’s why she was willing to initiate anything at all, but niceness to this degree is less unusual and more unheard of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass doesn’t count. Cass is a special case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I be?” He seems genuinely baffled. “Vex,” he says. “You’ve been nothing but kind and thoughtful with me from the day we met, why wouldn’t I… be polite or nice or treat you with the respect you deserve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want out of this?” Vex asks bluntly. She waves a hand. “All your sincerity, the niceness, it’s not-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Needed for something casual.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She swallows. “You’re highborn, you can’t tell me that this is going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>last-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can promise anything is going to last,” he says. “And, um. This-” he waves his hand “-exists as long you want it to. But, ah- I enjoy my time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s looking at her again, that painfully, achingly earnest look that Vex never knows what to do with because noble pricks are never so sincere, never so </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest</span>
  </em>
  <span> as Percy seems to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never once lied to her, not that she’s noticed. He hasn’t even tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve not known each other long,” he says. “And, um- I have no intention of asking for more than you’re willing to give. But, ah-” He pauses, looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>sheepish</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all things, hesitant and uncertain but no less earnest than before. When he speaks his voice is soft. “Honestly, I prefer your company to most anyone else’s.” He lets out a long breath, reaches a tentative hand towards her. “I have no idea what the future is likely to hold for us all. But I’d very much like for you to be in it.” His voice is even softer when next he speaks next. “I’d very much like to be in it with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day is -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax tracks her down eventually, relatively quickly after she stops avoiding him but there’s little to discuss because she’s sat elbow-to-elbow with Percy as they scrutinise his cousin’s accounts. Honestly, she thinks he’s hoping for a discrepancy almost as much as she is and they barely glance up when her brother bursts in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner is relaxed; with one dragon dead, with Westruun freed and prepared for any further attacks, their mood has lightened considerably and Percy, ever present with them, has clearly noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or perhaps, Vex is starting to think, he’s just perceptive - he keeps a ready eye on all of them after all. She’s not missed that there’s an order to how he offers drinks around: Grog and Scanlan first, the rest in order of who seems most stressed. She does, however, wonder how much of that is his tendency towards being a good host and how much is trained perceptiveness from his years under the Briarwoods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner they make their way upstairs together, still in easy conversation. When Percy turns towards his rooms, mentioning a book, Vex keeps pace with him and they settle not at his desk but comfortably by the fireplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book Percy had mentioned, a tome of stories about the Feywild, intermittently both fact and fiction, is a large one and well-thumbed. Vex eyes him over top of the dog-eared pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Favourite book?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to judge if he’s blushing in the light of the fire but there is certainly more colour to his cheeks and he doesn’t lift his eyes from the sketchbook in his lap. “I liked the cleverness,” he admits. “Solving problems sideways, exact wording being used to mean something else entirely, all that.” He shrugs. “And it ended up helping, later,” he adds, eyeing the book. “Saying one thing and meaning another, leaving things open to interpretation- it made things safer. Hard for people to pin you down for something when you’ve made it easy to deny anything from the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were it anyone else saying that Vex would hesitate to trust them. But- Percy’s rarely vague these days, precise in his words, exact in apologies. The only times that he’s vague he usually ends up clarifying. If Vex had to guess, she rather thinks Percy wants to leave behind that kind of conversation, where safety can only be found in omission and trickery. From what he’d said, all in past tense - she doesn’t think he much likes the book anymore, or it’s cleverness, even if its knowledge helped save his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds, Vex thinks, like Percy had a hellish five years. She’s thought it before but he manages, day to day, to seem composed and unaffected. Moments like this remind her that he can’t have been. No one goes through the loss of their whole family unaffected or, if they do, something is very wrong. (She hasn’t missed, either, how just like Cass, Percy avoids mentioning their family altogether. It’s as though neither of them dare admit to grief.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book is interesting. How much is fact and how much fiction is hard to tell from the stories alone, though some of the marginalia - not all in Percy’s hand she notes - theorise connections between this area and that. There’s even a doodled map on the title page, annotated and asterisked and it seems as though Percy, unsure of which parts were fact or fiction himself, spent a long time trying to figure it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stories are good, too. Funny and clever in equal parts - though some few edge closer to horror, especially when the Unseelie Court comes up, and some place called the Campsite of Sorudun the Happy. As she reads, Percy seems happy to sketch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things are easy between them. Even sitting in silence isn’t awkward; Percy doesn’t poke or prod or peer over her shoulder; he’s a pressureless presence, observing but never seeming to judge. As he sketches he occasionally glances up but there’s a soft tilt to the edges of his mouth that suggests a smile. He likes this, Vex thinks, sitting like this. What he said earlier - it wasn’t a lie, his sincerity was real. It’s- she doesn’t entirely know what to make of it, that someone so clearly, so quietly, enjoys her company, even for things such as this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, though, it gets late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mind?” she asks, lifting the book. Percy gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free,” he says. “Any help I can offer - I’m happy to give it. Take it as long as you need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crosses to him for that, to press a kiss to his cheek and he’s turning his face towards her as she nears, not in expectation but just, it seems, to look at her. When she leans to kiss his cheek he seems to relax, his eyes still fixed on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex?” he says, not a question so much as her name and some uncertainty as she lingers, watching down at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really is sincere, she thinks. His gaze is open and honest, he hasn’t dodged her questions. He means every word he’s said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hooks her fingers under his jaw and lifts his face. He doesn’t hesitate, tilting his head back willingly under her direction, looking more clearly up at her. When she bows her head to his again his lips part beneath hers easily; he angles his head to make the most of the kiss, leaning into her touch, his whole body tilting towards her, his tongue licking against hers. When she pulls back he’s breathing hard, following for half a moment before stopping, leaning once more into her hands, his eyes fixed on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex?” he says again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand finds his wrist. His sketchbook has fallen to the floor, his pencil with it; Vex is glad she left the tome on her chair. She barely has to tug for him to rise; as he’s halfway standing, his lips just level with hers, she kisses him again and the surprised noise he makes before he sighs, before he straightens while bending his head to hers, is something else entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a long day,” she says when next they break the kiss. “Do you want to-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands cup her face, gentle but firm, and his lips find hers in answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says against her mouth. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s late,” he comments afterwards. She’s sprawled atop him, one hand stroking down his forearm, her hair a dark spray down her back, over his side. His hand maps mindless patterns over her back, down her spine and he can feel the occasional scars on her skin, marks from who knows how many fights, the outline of her ribs. Aware of her as he is, he can feel where her legs press against his sides, her feet to his thighs. “Stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums softly, a low sound in her throat, mild and considering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> late,” she says, half a mumble, and Percy feels a small kernel of hope in his chest grow brighter until she rolls off him to one side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, he turns to face her; they’re practically nose to nose and he almost wants to close the distance and kiss her. He doesn’t dare say anything. Vex chuckles, her eyes still mostly closed. “My turn to leave from your room in the morning,” she says, one hand reaching-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that she pulls a blanket up to cover them both, pressing against his side until he opens his arms to embrace her. She tucks her face against his chest and Percy can’t help but think how right it feels, Vex pressed against him, warm and trusting and comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” he hums, because he doesn’t think he has words now, his heart in his throat, his eyes on Vex. Carefully he removes his glasses, pinches out the candle on the bedside. When he presses a kiss to her hair, her breathing’s already evened out to that of sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them expect to be jarred from sleep by a rakshasa attack and assassins in the castle.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Percy makes it downstairs, it’s all over. There’s blood and dead bodies in the hall, a man with multiple bleeding dagger wounds slumped against the wall opposite Cassandra’s door, a trail of blood between all the rest. He doesn’t even try to hide his “Oh god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead,” Keyleth says. “And the one who caused it. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is extremely not okay. Blood and bodies in the halls, attacked in their own </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anna,” he breathes, half a second before remembering that she’s dead. By his hand, no less. When he glances around no one seems to have noticed his lapse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stand there and discuss what to do he makes his way downstairs to the parlour and pours himself a drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vex is headed back inside when she spots it - a flickering light in the room that had once been a parlour of some kind beside the music room. Not one they’ve had cause to use much. She doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s a threat - an attacker would have to be a special knd of stupid to light a lamp or the fire when they were hiding but she pushes the half-ajar door open with the end of her bow anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy is inside, sat by a table, a glass and a decanter of greenish liquid before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, clearly surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right?” she asks. Percy doesn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is quiet. He’s lit no other lights; there’s a candle on the table in a little handled dish as there is in all their rooms, and a low fire is crackling but the room is otherwise dim. Percy’s in what looks like pyjamas and a dressing gown, not dressed and certainly not headed back to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Cass isn’t either. She’s sat with Pike and Trinket and Vex suspects that if they’d not handled things so quickly she’d not be half so soothed.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy darling?” she asks, stepping inside. “Are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets the door fall half-ajar behind her rather than pushing it too; Percy seems to shake himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says. “Or- I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine like Cass is?” she asks, setting her bow down, leaning it against a chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs a laugh. “Something like.” For a while they stay in silence, just the fire crackling behind them. Occasionally Percy turns the glass in front of him but he doesn’t drink while she’s present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s with Pike and Trinket,” Vex says after a stretch. “Cass. She wasn’t doing well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy says quietly. “I imagine not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fall to quiet again but Vex isn’t keen to let it stand. “So you’re not,” she says simply. Percy doesn’t sigh, but something in his shoulders relaxes. She almost misses what he says, more a murmur than clear-spoken words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blood in the halls.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass has scarcely spoken of her old memories. She chooses to keep it to herself and none of them have dared be so cruel as to ask after memories that clearly pain her. Percy, however, has proven more willing to open up - to her, if no one else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad memories?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says. There’s a tremble to the edge of his voice, a tremor to his hand as he indicates the bottle and the glass. “Hence- a nightcap. To soothe frayed nerves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t move to drink. His hands, Vex sees, still tremble against the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” she says gently. “You should sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” he admits. His glance to her is almost plaintive. “Not after-” he gestures towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. That explains a few things. He doesn’t offer to explain more but Vex can guess - better a hangover in the morning than an evening of nightmares and sleeplessness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like company?” she asks instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy blinks once, twice. “I wouldn’t say no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex has become adept at reading the look in his eyes. It means </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially if it’s you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a seat, setting her quiver down by her bow and nudges his foot under the table. “So,” she says. “What’re you drinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, and reaches to spin his glass. “Green Tear whiskey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never heard of it,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy huffs a laugh, dry and barely there but it’s something. “It’s another local liquor,” he says. “A sap spirit. There’s some local trees, betulacers. They get tapped for syrup - the sap is green, hence -” he gestures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green Tear,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy inclines his head, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Exactly. A few people make a sap mead from it; a few generations ago some bright spark got an idea to mix it with peated whiskey from Drynna. The green colour makes it stand out, so the name stuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I?” she gestures but Percy’s already reaching, sliding his own glass over to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he says, gesturing with his fingertips. “Feel free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not what she expects when she takes a sip - strong, yes, but she’d expected the peat to overwhelm any sweetness; it doesn’t. Instead the peat rounds the sweetness out with a savoury edge, leaving it like woodsmoke and syrup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she breaths. “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She glances to Percy; there’s a touch of pink high in his cheeks. “How many other local spirits are there I should know about? If they’re as good as this and the Direheart-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a fair few,” Percy says. “Only a very few truly great ones, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex raises an eyebrow. “Direheart you’ve shown me,” she says. “And now this. What else?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Courage,” he says promptly. “And snow mead. Snow mead is, ah- someone set their mead to ferment and tossed a handful or few of local berries in as well. It was done by Winter’s Crest and the snows, so- snow mead. It’s fruity. Sweet. Very different to this or the Direheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds good,” she notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.” He pauses, taps his fingers on the table, then rises. “Here, give me a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not entirely stable as moves away from the table, swaying a little as he goes; Vex isn’t sure if it’s sleeplessness, fear, alcohol on an empty stomach or some mixture of all three, but he pulls open the door of a wall-cupboard in the corner, rummaging through clinking bottles and occasionally tilting them to the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we are,” he says, striding back over, snagging another glass from the sideboard. It’s set down without much ceremony and he pours a generous glug, nudging the glass towards her with a finger before recorking the bottle. The mead is a pale soft pink, flickering with amber light from the fire as it catches in the cut glass of the tumbler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fruity and sweet as he said it would be when she tries it, as honeyed as might be expected and it goes down easily. The whiskey was a slow drink to be savoured, the mead is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She says as much to Percy and he smiles, but doesn’t retake his seat. Instead he sets the mead back in the cupboard, extracting another bottle with deft fingers, snagging another glass and pouring a measure of amber liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Courage,” he says simply before replacing the bottle and retaking his seat. There’s something nervous to him as he reclaims his glass of whiskey and Vex takes the new offering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to expect of the Courage but, well - it’s in the name. It’s almost as sweet as the mead in her mouth, but not as syrupy, not as borderline sickly. There’s no lingering cloying honey to it as it goes down, just a berry fruitiness, a slight sharp edge that reminds her of the Direheart’s bite, but nowhere near as strong. It’s warmer too - the others have all warmed as alcohol does but the Courage is something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she looks again at Percy he’s watching quietly. She doesn’t know quite what to say that isn’t a repeat of before but Percy saves her the trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Courage is my favourite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet admission and a meaningful one too. Percy’s too polite, often, to offer an outright opinion or statement of preference. That he has here indicates no small measure of trust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see why,” she says, and elects to polish off what little is left in her glass. Percy’s smile when she’s done, genuine and hopeful and somewhat surprised, is something she doesn’t entirely know what to do with. “Come to bed,” she says instead, reaching a hand to his. “We’ve all got a busy day tomorrow, you should get some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in the dark, she can’t miss the unbearable softness in his eyes when he looks at her and she doesn’t think it’s the alcohol, even now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right,” he says softly, and turns his palm to hers, interlocks their fingers. With his free hand he lifts his glass, tosses back the last of the whiskey. He rises slowly, giving her space and time to do the same. “Lead on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact, "betulacers" is entirely made up. The name comes from <i>betula</i> the genus for Birch trees, which we have archaeological evidence pre-historic humans used to make sap spirits, and <i>acer</i> for maple, which we know modern humans tap for sap.</p><p>As before with the Direheart, descriptions of the drinks are somewhat my own interpretation of the tweets Taliesin Jaffe put out describing the bottles Percy brought to Vex.</p><p>If you enjoyed this chapter then please leave a comment! Or you can always come and talk to me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vex seems stressed come the evening. It’s not much - no one else seems much to notice except that Trinket seems perhaps a bit more irritable, reading his ranger more accurately than anyone else - but it’s enough to concern Percy. Vex never worries over nothing, she always has a reason for what she does and how she acts. That something has her stressed - Percy has no doubt it <i>matters.</i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Percy wakes before Vex the next morning, but only barely. He’s confused for a long moment - Vex’s presence he registers immediately but it takes him a moment to realise they’re in his room.</p><p>It’s still strange, he thinks, to wake in his own room and moreso to wake in his room with company.</p><p>Vex’s voice is gentle as she wakes, immediately alert not unlike Anna.</p><p>“Hey,” she says. Her hand is gentle on his cheek. “Sleep well?”</p><p>He feels- he feels like he does most mornings: tired and groggy and not pleased about the prospect of waking up. </p><p>He feels like he does most mornings, rather than what it is: a morning after the castle was attacked. A morning after he drank perhaps somewhat more than advised before bed. </p><p>He feels… fine.</p><p>“Very,” he says, watching down at Vex. Hesitantly he leans, presses a fleeting kiss to her lips. “Thank you.” Her hand is gentle on his cheek.</p><p>“Of course,” she says. Then, she throws the covers back. “Come on darling,” she says. “Breakfast!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Vox Machina prepares for the Feywild while Percy works on paperwork and he’s halfway torn between listening in on what they plan and seeing what help he can offer and absolutely detesting the idea of anyone he cares about heading into a place of such ready trickery. It’s one thing to know, it’s another entirely to be party to their preparation. </p><p>He joins them for lunch but they’re all already making their own plans for the afternoon; Percy sees no reason to interfere when he knows he’ll be seeing them again at dinner and likely afterwards, when Vex has yet to return his book. He has no doubt that she will.</p><p>Vex seems stressed come the evening. It’s not much - no one else seems much to notice except that Trinket seems perhaps a bit more irritable, reading his ranger more accurately than anyone else - but it’s enough to concern Percy. Vex never worries over nothing, she always has a reason for what she does and how she acts. That something has her stressed - Percy has no doubt it <em> matters. </em></p><p>But he knows better than to say something in company. If Vex is worried she usually says as much, if it will affect them all Percy has no doubt she’d <em> tell </em> them all. He’s seen how much she cares for them and they for her; she’s the last person he’d suspect of keeping something to herself if it was likely to cause them all trouble.</p><p>Which means it’s personal. Given how carefully Vex talks about things, given how she’d admitted that the dragon in Emon had killed her mother - the anger and horror in her voice as she spat it out like a dead thing she was ashamed to admit to carrying with her - he has no doubt she’s keeping whatever this is to herself for a similar reason.</p><p>Instead he sits with her, offers her a glass of wine first when he starts pouring drinks after dinner and quietly keeps her company when they all finally make their ways upstairs.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know how to ask. He’s not even sure he <em> should </em> ask, even in privacy because as they make their way upstairs Vex seems almost to lean into his silence, to prefer it to the others’ attempts at conversation. When they get to her room and she shuts the door she seems to relax further, picking her way over to one of the armchairs and relaxing into it.</p><p>She’s already reaching for the tome he loaned her, so he resumes sketching. He’s got too many of Trinket by now and after last night - there’s an absently doodled sketch of Vex in the corner, her face attentive as she reads.</p><p>It’s easy for a while. It’s always easy with Vex, peaceful quiet, no pressure to be or do anything. Like with Anna, it’s so very easy to simply sit there and work and to <em> be </em> without consideration for the next day or the next. To just- <em> be. </em></p><p>But there’s still something of a frown to Vex’s face. He can’t help but notice when he finds himself sketching her again.</p><p>“You seem apprehensive,” he says softly. “Are you- is everything alright?”</p><p>She glances up at him but doesn’t sigh, doesn’t look suspicious, doesn’t slam down walls.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” she says. “Just- we’ve been through a lot already.” She lets out a long breath. “And the book says that the Feywild is- it’s like our world but-”</p><p>“More,” Percy cuts in gently.</p><p>“Yeah.” She tilts her head, shrugs. “We’ve all been through a lot just <em> here </em> on this plane of existence - that’s not counting the time we went to the Frostfell, or the demiplane with the evil wizard, or the baby god or that Grog’s technically been to the Feywild once already. I’m not- I’m not relishing whatever we have to fight to get the bow.”</p><p>He’s too stunned a moment to even say anything. Then: “You’ve-”</p><p>“Dragon in the Frostfell,” Vex says, setting the tome down. “Vax damn near got frozen but we managed to unfreeze him to fight and the rest of Westruun after. Evil wizard demiplane we all survived, the wizard did not, but some of the others there…” She trails off before continuing. “Chrysa-Thul was some- some bastard cult thing back in Stilben. They tried to bloody <em> feed </em> us to it.”</p><p>“Good god,” he says softly. “That’s-”</p><p>“Annoyingly common,” Vex says. “In our line of work. Pike died once, when we fought a demon, and Vax almost did when we fought the Briarwoods in Emon.”</p><p>And she <em> had. </em></p><p>“You all come so close to <em> death-” </em></p><p>“And we survive.” Vex sounds firm, absolute if not calm and Percy doesn’t understand how she can be. “We’ve come back from death some of us.”</p><p>Like <em> she </em> had. But that didn’t mean it was easy for anyone; he remembers everyone’s drawn faces, he remembers his own worry.</p><p>“And plenty <em> don’t.” </em> He doesn’t mean how sharply the words come from his throat but Vex looks up at him, clearly startled. He tries to soften the blow of it; explain why against the deafening thud of his heart in his chest but all he can manage is, “Please. Please be careful. Please don’t risk your lives if you can help it.”</p><p>“Percy,” she says, something sad around the edges of her words. “We have to. <em> Someone </em> has to do something about this. Emon is our <em> home.” </em></p><p><em> “Whitestone </em> could be-” He cuts himself off, words dying in his throat. He doesn’t entirely think that would be welcomed right now. </p><p>“We saved your home,” Vex says. Her eyes are clear, her gaze direct. “Think how it will feel to the people of Emon when it’s saved.”</p><p>Terrified. Daunted. Grieving all that’s been lost. Hopeful maybe - the people of Whitestone always seem to be these days, grimly determined but hopeful. And he still remembers their joy at being freed from the Briarwoods. He bows his head.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Vex waves a hand, a soft dismissal, but she doesn’t tell him to leave even as she returns to the tome. For a while they sit in silence, uncomfortable and unsure.</p><p>“Should-” He clears his throat, closes his sketchbook. “Should I go?”</p><p>Vex’s eyes flash to his face, expression clearly surprised. “What?” she asks. “Percy-?”</p><p>He knows better than to admit to fear or anxiety but he can’t help the small aborted gesture of his hands. “I-”</p><p>“You don’t have to go,” she says gently. “I’m not upset. Just tired.”</p><p>And he hasn’t helped that tiredness; he’s made it <em> worse- </em></p><p>Vex sighs, her head tilting, her expression fonder than Anna’s ever was. “I think we’re both tired, aren’t we, darling?”</p><p>That’s- that’s true enough and he nods, offers a smile.</p><p>“Let’s get some rest, all right? We can talk in the morning.”</p><p>As she rises and leads him by the hand to bed and to sleep he cannot help but follow.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Vex wakes slowly the next morning. She doesn’t <em> want </em> to, she knows they have to get going, get moving, that they have a job to do. Hell, this leg of it all is for her sake, isn’t, to get a bow with which she can fight a damned <em> elemental dragon?</em> </p><p>But she isn’t looking forward to it. Not to the Feywild, place of wonder and terror in equal part as it’s said to be, and certainly not to Syngorn. Trinket snurfles up beside the bed, cold nose poking at her hip and she sits up a little, reaching to pet his ears. Bloody <em> Syngorn.</em> </p><p>It couldn’t just be the Feywild - that might even be simpler, Feywild, fey forest, fey bow, <em> voila, </em> she can fight a bloody dragon - the damned elves had to take their damned city and had to camp out away from the dragons in the <em> damned Feywild. </em> And their father didn’t even have the guts to tell them Syngorn could do that, that in times of strife Velora would be safe - Devana too. Vex can find just enough good will to wish Velora’s mother well, if not their shared father.</p><p>“Something’s bothering you,” Percy says. His voice is soft and she’d not noticed him wake; he’s watching her, his expression perhaps a little sleepy still. He reaches across the space between them, his fingers gentle as they stroke her arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t reach for his glasses, just watches, his fingers gentle, his gaze soft.</p><p>“Usually I’d say no,” she admits. “But I rather get the sense you’ve spilled your guts to me over the last few nights and it feels unfair to lock you out when you let me in.”</p><p>His fingers are gentle, stroking in a soothing pattern.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you don’t want to. You don’t owe me anything.”</p><p>He has been so terribly kind to her - to them <em> all, </em> really - more than once. She owes him at least <em> something, </em> if only kindness and respect back.</p><p>“Syngorn,” she says. “It’s-” She swallows and settles on the simplest explanation. If anyone’s likely to read the truth between the words, she thinks, it’s Percy. “I’m not looking forward to going back there.”</p><p>Percy says nothing. He just watches, his hand gentle on her arm and she swallows.</p><p>“Cass said you used to study Elvish,” she says, because it’s easier to talk sideways than directly. “And that elvish culture came up. Do you- do you know how full-blood elves see half-elves?”</p><p>He watches quietly. “I’m given to understand,” he says. “That it can vary quite considerably. Lyrengorn is said to be relatively open, as things go, but they’re also known for accepting refugee drow. Majority elvish settlements aside from Syngorn vary wildly. And then there is, ah. Syngorn itself.” He pauses, his fingers still moving on her arm. “I’m ah- I’m given to understand it’s something to do with the Archheart and the nature of elvish souls. Or that- that’s the reason given.”</p><p>“They think,” Vex says, because this at least has always stung enough to actually make her angry, “that we have half a soul.” Half an elf, half a soul, half a person. People translated <em> othlir </em> as <em> ill-born </em> but that wasn’t even the half of it. Depending on the etymology claimed, it could also mean <em> half-alive.</em> </p><p>Percy, still watching, says nothing. His fingers are still gentle on her arm.</p><p>This shouldn’t be so difficult to talk of, she knows that. It’s a simple thing and she’d heard Vax rail about it more times than she could count before they finally left Syngorn behind them. She knows how simple it should be to say but for some reason it never is.</p><p>“We were judged,” she says. “Growing up. We at least <em> belonged </em> in Byroden, we were never- we never <em> fit </em> in Syngorn. And- if we have to deal with our father, he never-” She lifts a hand, rubs at her eye quickly. “He never thought we were good enough.” <em> Even after we saved Westruun the first time. </em></p><p>Percy’s still silent, though his gaze has gone somewhat more unfocussed, lifted to the ceiling, for all his fingers still move in measured, even strokes across the soft skin of her forearm.</p><p>“Percy?” she asks. She hates how nervous she sounds, how she can’t keep it out of her voice, but it’s not like- he is from money and from status and he’s been given at least some measure of respect for the majority of his life. It’s not like he has any basis to understand or sympathise; for all she knows he’s going to be just as dismissive as her father ever was.</p><p>But he hums thoughtfully. </p><p>“I was thinking,” Percy says, gaze still on the ceiling, “That there’s a title. It’s not been in use since- well, it’s not been in use in full for years before the Briarwoods even arrived. The Third House itself has been in use, but they were all killed by the Briarwoods-”</p><p>“Percy-” she says. <em> “What?” </em></p><p>“I was thinking,” he says, and he looks at her, his gaze far more focussed than earlier. “That if people in Syngorn refuse to see your worth, then the least I can offer is a way to prove that other people <em> have. </em> At the bare minimum they’ll have to offer you a greater degree of respect if you march in there titled than not. One of the privileges of being made nobility.”</p><p>“I-” she says, taken aback. <em> “Percy.” </em></p><p><em> You don’t have to, </em> she wants to say. <em> Why are you doing this? </em></p><p>Percy shrugs. “You’ve saved us. Cassandra has a title by default, your brother, from what I’ve gathered, has become a god’s champion, and Keyleth is practically a princess as it is and is on her way to earning the title she actually cares about. Pike has her place as a cleric and seems content with that while Scanlan and Grog don’t exactly seem like they need titles.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching her. “But you do.”</p><p>She’s too stunned to even have words, mouth opening and closing like she’s a fish.</p><p>“Why shouldn’t you be recognised for what you’ve done?” Percy says. “The others have their own titles, their own things they’re recognised for, or they don’t seek the kind of recognition I could give.” He smiles softly. “Besides, it’s a title I rather think you’d like if you took it. It’s rather good.”</p><p>A title. A <em> title. </em> Being offered to <em> her </em> and <em> oh, </em> she shouldn’t let her interest be piqued but it is nonetheless and she swallows. “Oh?”</p><p>He smiles at that, his hand sliding from her wrist to her hand. “Lady Vex’ahlia, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt and Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone.”</p><p>She doesn’t have the first idea what to <em> say. </em></p><p>“I’ve said before,” he reminds her. “You are always more than welcome to consider Whitestone your home. You can hardly become the Whitestone treasurer with everything going on, even if you want to, but I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t have it noted that you have a place here, should you ever wish to take it up.”</p><p>“I-” she tries. “Percy-”</p><p>“You can belong here,” he says softly. “If you like.” </p><p>She thinks, very nearly, that she might cry.</p><p>“And,” Percy adds. “If your father can’t see your worth then he’s blinder than a bat. I may not know your brother half as well as I do you, but the two of you saved Cassandra from a prison cell. You treat her like family - when we’ve lost all of ours.” His hand squeezes hers. <em> “That </em> has worth. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worthy of sharing air with you in my honest opinion.”</p><p>“Yes, but-” She doesn’t know what to say. That helping Cass seemed like decency, that treating her as family came naturally, that they helped her reclaim Whitestone because they know what it is to lose a home? She half suspects Percy’s willing to argue that those are all just as important. “A <em> title,” </em> she says because she has no idea what else to say.</p><p>“You’ve the right to be treated with respect,” Percy says. “You should have been treated with respect from the start but you’ve more than earned it now and if they can’t see that then the least I can do is give them a reason to treat you with respect in a language they do understand - bloody minded bureaucratic bullshit and forced political diplomacy. You can call yourself an envoy for Whitestone if you like, make them deal with you when it comes to gathering forces to finally retake Emon.”</p><p>He’s just adding more and more - more reasons, more counterpoints, more things that shouldn’t make her feel half as happy as they do.</p><p>“You’re giving me free rein to wave a title and all of Whitestone in my father’s face and the face of every politician in Syngorn,” she says. <em> “Percy.” </em></p><p>“If that’s what it takes,” he says. “If they don’t treat you fairly. If they refuse to see you as <em> you </em> and treat you decently then at least you can present them with a bunch of words that <em> make </em> them treat you decently.”</p><p>She opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again, because Percy’s smiling, properly smiling.</p><p>“Percy,” she says. “Are you suggesting I rub it in their faces?”</p><p>“Hardly,” he says but there’s laughter in his voice. “No. Just- to be diplomatic. And to remind them, if they’re not, just why they ought to be.” He tries to hide his humour, to pull a serious face. “It’s very serious,” he says. “Diplomacy.”</p><p>She wants to laugh and whether that’s in joy or relief or genuine humour she can hardly tell.</p><p>“All right,” she says when she thinks she can contain herself. “If you’re sure you won’t regret it.”</p><p>They’re close enough, after the laughter and the humour that his eyes seem in focus when his gaze meets hers. </p><p>“Honestly dear,” he says. “I don’t think there’s anything I’m going to regret <em> less.” </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Before they set off to Plane Shift to the Feywild, Percy presses a thick, heavy scroll into her hands. Vex doesn’t even need to unroll it to guess what it is. </p><p>She does anyway.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed this! If you did, please leave comments, or come and talk to me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vax has always responded to the unfairness of how Syngorn treated them with anger, less on his own behalf, because he never cared, but on hers because she did. Because she does. And his anger has always been because she cares and Syngorn never did and if there is one thing her brother hates, it’s unfairness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vax, to his credit, manages to wait until they’re gone from Syngorn before he says a word about it. Less to his credit, the words he uses are not nice, or complimentary, or even to Vex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know,” he says to Cass as soon as the gates are shut behind them. “I’d thought your brother was different to those elvish pricks till now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex doesn’t see what expression Cass pulls at that, she just keeps walking, shouldering past her brother, one hand in Trinket’s fur and pointedly ignoring him. She knows he’s protective - with everything they’ve been through he has fair reason to be - but if there is one thing Vex is sure of it’s that she really doesn’t need to be protected from Percy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother can be a prick,” Cass agrees. Vex doesn’t miss the faint edge of anger to her voice as she continues. “But if you’re comparing him to them then you might want to reconsider.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Vax says. “If he’s throwing titles around like they matter-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s hand clenches in Trinket’s fur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To some people,” Cass says pointedly. “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> matter. Whether or not they </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a separate question, but clearly-” and from the corner of Vex’s eye she sees Cass’ hand wave. “Vex’s title mattered to the people in Syngorn. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>helped.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t see what the fuss is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why would he care about elves?” Vax asks. “He’s never going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>meet</span>
  </em>
  <span> them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> are,” Cass points out. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>did.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Believe what you like about my brother but he doesn’t want us to fail in this. You think he doesn’t know what it’s like having your home taken from you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while they’re quiet, still walking, Cass’ rebuttal seemingly having ended the discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-” Grog says, a few minutes later. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vex?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cass sighs. Vex turns to direct a look at him and he’s immediately apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean you’re great!” he exclaims. “You’re the most great, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> awesome. But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s still a title,” Vax says, and they’re shoulder to shoulder again so she can see him looking at her. “A title you don’t need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It hadn’t been a little thing watching the expressions of people change with the reveal of the title. Watching them go from barely hidden scoffs to attentive politeness. To, for once, be treated with something like respect in a place that’s home to half their ancestry - that houses the sister she and Vax both love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But titles aren’t about need,” Keyleth says, sounding confused. “We earned our places on the Council by saving the Sovereign. I’m on my Aramenté to become Voice of the Tempest. Titles are </span>
  <em>
    <span>earned.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think Uriel or his wife </span>
  <em>
    <span>earned</span>
  </em>
  <span> their titles?” Vax asks. “Of course not! Titles get handed out wherever people with power like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keyleth’s frowning hard. “But Vex has been helping him with Whitestone’s accounts,” she points out. “So she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> earn this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keyleth-” Vax at least has it in him to speak quietly as he speaks again. “She wasn’t titled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grand Mistress of the Treasury</span>
  </em>
  <span> was she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Cass interjects. “Vex is the Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt. And Percy wouldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hand out</span>
  </em>
  <span> a title, least of all that one. That one’s not just given to anyone who might be vaguely applicable, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>earned.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-” Vax looks decidedly mulish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to listen to him give an hour long rant when I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>eight</span>
  </em>
  <span> over how handing out titles to whomever one liked was reckless and that he couldn’t believe some of our ancestors had ever been so stupid, Vax.” Cass’ voice is firm and it’s- it’s strangely calming, hearing Cass go to bat for her like this. Cass is more likely to debate her than Vax; for her to argue with him isn’t a small thing. “Percy wouldn’t hand out a title and he certainly wouldn’t just hand out that one.” Cass glances up to Vex, offering the slightest of smiles. “If he gave it to Vex he has a damn good reason; he wouldn’t offer it to her if he didn’t think she was a good fit for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s… promising to hear. Vex doesn’t exactly relish explaining that Percy gave it to her as a comfort, as a way to keep her from dealing with what they’d dealt with in Syngorn for so long. Vax just gets angry at it all; he doesn’t understand why she can’t do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cass adds with emphasis. “I think he was right to. Vex is a good ranger. If anyone’s likely to pass the trial of the hunt, who’ll be able to keep the Parchwood safe from people and people safe from the Parchwood, then it’s her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like-” Grog screws his face up. “Kamalji-whatshisface. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Name Is Earned</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all that crap. A title is earned, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Cassandra says. “Not bought or traded or handed out as a favour. Earned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax sighs; he at least seems to have had most of the fight beaten out of him by this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He asked me to be treasurer,” Vex says to him, because it feels harmless and- and maybe it’ll help him understand. “And I can’t because of this. I think a little bit of this is him saying I can come back to help whenever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need a title,” Vax says softly, reaching for her hand and squeezing. “You don’t. You’re brilliant without one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then she’s just as brilliant with one,” Scanlan points out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And</span>
  </em>
  <span> she got to stick it to those elves as a bonus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not completely surprised that Vax knocks on her door that evening. He’d been quiet the rest of the day and he only does that when he’s thinking, properly thinking. Even if he’d not crossed a line he’d trodden very close and he knows that because of course he does. They’d spent too long with only each other to rely on not to know when they’ve upset each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Vax says when she cracks the door open. “Can- can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet as she lets him in. Quiet as she sits on the edge of her bed and resumes checking over her armour for nicks or scuffs, wear and tear. Slowly, very slowly, Vax moves to sit next to her and it’s… it’s calming, so calming, to have him sat at her side, the warmth of his arm pressed to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says. “About today. I wasn’t trying to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while they’re quiet. Trinket ambles over, resting the great weight of his head on Vax’s lap and demanding ear-scratches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cass kind of made her point,” he says quietly. There’s something almost abashed in his voice and Vex thinks Cass arguing back with him might have had more of an impact than she’d realised. Cass has borderline idolised Vax from early on, trusted him as family. For her to so firmly disagree with him isn’t a small thing - and Vax noticed. “But you know what was worse?” He’s quiet a moment and she shrugs. “You didn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what she could have said to end the argument. Vax would have thought her defensive regardless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hurt you,” Vax says, and it’s such a quiet admission, guilt laced through each word. “I just- I thought Percival was just proving to be like everyone in Syngorn, nothing else. That he’d just- give a title like it changes anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> change things,” Vex points out. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vax cuts himself off. “Sorry. But you took it personally. When Grog- you took it personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> title,” she says. “Do you think I’d have accepted it if I thought- thought it didn’t matter or that he wasn’t sincere?” If Percy really was just like everyone in Syngorn had been?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Vax admits. “No I don’t. And- I was wrong, earlier. To say otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while they’re quiet, just Trinket’s occasional noises as he enjoys his ear-scratches, the soft squeak of polishing cloth on armour as she fixes scuffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” Vax says. “I still don’t think you need a title.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely, just barely, she holds in a sigh, but she pauses in polishing to do so and Vax takes her hand in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they can’t see that you’re brilliant,” he says earnestly, “Then they aren’t worth your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears the words he doesn’t say too: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know why you think they are.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But- that’s not what he means, really, is it? Not with malice at least. He’s always responded to the unfairness of how Syngorn treated them with anger, less on his own behalf, because he never cared, but on hers because she did. Because she does. And his anger has always been because she cares and Syngorn never did and if there is one thing her brother hates, it’s unfairness.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If they can’t see that-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” she says. “Percy said something similar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax glances up at her, surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That if Syldor couldn’t see what I was worth he was blinder than a bat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vax says. “He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs a little at that, if only because of Vax’s utter vehemence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she says. “But just because you both believe it doesn’t mean it’s true. Or-” she pauses to mull the words over but can’t take too long because she knows Vax will interject otherwise. “It doesn’t mean it </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> true. To me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The title makes it feel true,” she admits. “Because- it’s just words in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it? I’ve helped Percy and I’ve helped Whitestone. He’s made that very clear. But it’s still - as far as they know, it’s just words. But as soon as I told them, showed them the scroll… and suddenly they can treat me with respect when for years they didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax is silent. When she glances up at him he’s sitting there, his mouth a little agape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need it,” Vax says, and it almost hurts how utter his faith is in that. “The title. I don’t know why it </span>
  <em>
    <span>matters.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” she says, quietly. “Just- it matters to me.” She doesn’t mean to make it sound so plaintive. “And Vax- he’s not… he’s not doing it to try to make me feel guilty or grateful. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Vax says gently. He squeezes her hand. “I believe you. Just… to me. You’ve never needed that, all right? You’ve always been brilliant. Doesn’t matter what pricks in Syngorn say or think, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You don’t need to have a title for me to see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy doesn’t either,” she points out. “And, um- he gave me the title because he thought they did. Syngorn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax blinks, taken aback. “Vex-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was worried,” she admits. “And I told him. And he just- offered it, like it was the simplest thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vax is silent, staring, for several long moments. “Vex,” he says softly when he has words again. “You found a good one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keep him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bog is awful. The tree is worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What lies within is worse still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saundor’s a creeping mess, as much rotten wood and vines as whatever fey person he used to be. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>clever</span>
  </em>
  <span> too and Vex hates it, hates his cleverness, hates how, had it been a few days before, she might even have taken the deal he offered her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart for the bow she needed to save Emon. To keep those she loves safe and alive. To take vengeance for her mother. Such a simple, easy deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she does know better now even as his words creep into her ears, needling at doubts that haven’t quite eased, pushing at the unstable foundations of what little shaky new confidence the title she was gifted has given her. She tightens her hand on her bow, refusing to let sweat loosen her grip and her gloves squeak at the force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all?” she asks, trying and failing to keep her tone light as she draws an arrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So very lonely,” Saundor says once again, and yes, some part of her sympathises but this pact isn’t a fair agreement but coercion and she won’t sympathise with that. “You understand. All I ask is your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lump in her throat and yet her tongue feels dry. It’s hard to swallow but she does so, nocking the arrow, sighting before she draws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a few faces in her mind as she does so. Vax, ever at her side, ever supportive. Vax who gave himself to the Clasp to keep her safe. She knows he wouldn’t want this for her. Cass, young and scared and scarred. Cass who’s claimed her and Vax as siblings to fill what was lost. She knows she wouldn’t want this for her either. All of Vox Machina, Keyleth so kind, Scanlan so laughing, Grog so fierce. None of them would want it either. Trinket, right by her side, warm furry bulk waiting only for her word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Percy, back in Whitestone, who gave what she needed not because she asked or even knew she needed it, but just because... because she needed it and he could - and who asked nothing in return. Who offered her his own home as hers, but only if she wanted it. Percy’s so careful to never express wants, to avoid imposition but- he gave her a title. He wants her to return, but never demands it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He helps her to think that, just maybe, she’s worth more than what she can be traded for, what she can do for another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your heart,” Saundor says again. “To help protect your friends. Won’t you give it to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could. It would be almost easy. Vex will do a great deal for those she cares about - she was prepared to fight Vax to keep Trinket, prepared to wrestle Trinket to make sure the baby bear didn’t hurt her brother. She knows that if she refuses then Saundor will not let them leave. That they will have to fight their way out of here, one way or another. But she won’t do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My heart,” she says and she’s almost shaking, fear and anger and terror because this might just just get them killed but this is- this is her decision not theirs. This is her heart and not theirs. And in this, they’re trusting her. “My heart is not a thing to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>traded.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looses the arrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you enjoyed feel free to come talk to me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and as ever, please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Percy thought he had known fear when Anna had woken him and pulled him aside, warned him what the Briarwoods intended and the only way they might be able to survive and help his family.</p><p>Having a dragon and its uncounted aerial allies overhead is almost worse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains smut. If that is not your thing scroll when you get to the line "He makes his way down her body easily," and it's safe to read again when it gets to "“Oh,” he says, when she settles beside him. ".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She hugs him as soon as they get back. She can’t not, Fenthras in her hand, everyone safe and alive around her, after </span>
  <em>
    <span>Syngorn</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the sheer joy the title brought her. Percy gasps, winded, and it’s a moment before he responds, arms around her in turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to see you too,” he says and she can hear the smile in his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But</span>
  </em>
  <span> you are all rather a mess. Why don’t you all head inside and get cleaned up? Some more of your friends have been by; I think they’ll want to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls back to look at him, Keyleth already speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy gestures, his hands falling away as Vex steps back. There’s a slight flush in his cheeks, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps awkwardness - Cassandra’s hardly easy with affection either, least of all in public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gilmore’s much improved,” he says. “Arcanist Vysoren was here recently, but she and Elementalist Thunderbrand have headed off again, the Realmseer as well, though I believe he intends to return to have another look at the Ziggurat. They’ve left letters. And lastly, a Seeker Assum Emring arrived a few days ago - he has further information on the state of Emon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Assum. The last Vex had seen of the halfling he’d been headed off to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wildemount.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He must have rushed back apace to get here so quickly and find them - or perhaps Allura contacted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s talk to him first,” she says. “Might as well get it out of the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy thought he had known fear when Anna had woken him and pulled him aside, warned him what the Briarwoods intended and the only way they might be able to survive and help his family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having a dragon and its uncounted aerial allies overhead is almost worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barrier is strong. Percy’s skill with magic is meagre and he’s not had much of a chance to speak to Gilmore or Arcanist Vysoren about furthering it but he can sense that much at least. He was there for the inauguration of each of the whitestone obelisks that make up the material aspect of the shield, filled with power by Gilmore or whichever spellcaster is able that day; he’d felt the thrum of power as Gilmore poured the first measure of spellwork into them. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> the barrier is powerful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still doesn’t want to see it tested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warn the people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Cass speak in tandem, Cass’ intent and his order to the guards, and the Captain Cassandra’s friends brought with them jumps to attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are tunnels beneath the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fat Hen</span>
  </em>
  <span> down in town,” Cass says quickly, and the man - Captain Howarth, that’s his name - nods. “We extended the cellar beneath the plaza, beneath the Sun Tree. Evacuate people there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t fit,” Keyleth says, wringing her hands. “I could Skywrite-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would the dragon see?” Percy glances over to her. “We can’t risk- if the dragon can see our warning, it’s all over. The shield is worth nothing-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if the shield already isn’t enough-” Keyleth says. “Vorugal </span>
  <em>
    <span>found</span>
  </em>
  <span> us, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>here-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And everyone in Whitestone might die. He hates it, the paralysis of fear, the uncertainty. The weight of so many lives on his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Cassandra says. “Keyleth, we have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can’t just let them </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>die!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> And her hands are reaching, magic twisting at her fingertips as she reaches skywards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keyleth!” Vax’s voice is quick, his hands quicker as he snatches at Keyleth’s. “It’s Cass’ home. It’s her decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy says. No, because he is the elder and even if he hates this, “It’s my decision.” He swallows, wracks his brain, desperate for some solution. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What would Anna do, what would Anna do?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>First, he thinks, she’d protect herself and him. Then anyone else who might be useful. No, not the course here. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What would Julius do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> An older question, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> question, because Julius was learning to lead, was meant to be their father’s successor. Julius would: “Warn the people,” he says. He looks at Keyleth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the sky. If the dragon sees then there’s no point to the barrier, we give Whitestone away. We need to tell them.” He looks at the one guard left in the room. “Find Captain Howarth. Tell him and the guards down in town to get everyone down into cellars and basements. Anyone without one of their own, take to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fat Hen</span>
  </em>
  <span> until it’s full. When it is - send them here. We can keep them safe in the tunnels. Even if the castle falls, the tunnels should stay stable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing Anna had been so absolute on - making sure every part of the tunnels was securely shored up. He half suspects she was prepared for, if not a dragon attack, at least the prospect of someone trying to sabotage it. He’s grateful for her paranoia now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percival-” Keyleth’s eyes are pleading, her fingers still twitching with the remnants of magic from the spell she sought to cast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go and help them,” he says. “Excavate the tunnels you made further if you need to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percival,” she says again. “If you’re wrong-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s on my head,” and he hates it, he hates it, but Anna isn’t here anymore, Julius isn’t here anymore, Father is long, </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone. There’s just him. “Whitestone is mine. If I fail it, then that’s on me, not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps eye contact, hoping she understands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> duty, his responsibility, not any of theirs. He could not help his family, he can help his home. After a long moment Keyleth nods; a moment more and she’s out the door, turning into an earth elemental and sinking into the ground as she heads down to town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy looks out the window to where Vorugal and his wyverns fly. He hopes he has made the right decision.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time evening comes they’re all exhausted. Vorugal and his wyverns have gone, yes, and the barrier seems to have held though Gilmore seems more haggard than usual when he joins them for dinner. Percy dreads to imagine what the burden of the barrier is doing for Gilmore’s as-yet imperfect health and still-healing injuries - but the man insists he’s fine and Percy knows better than to push. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex and the others are heading off to Draconia tomorrow, that much is quickly decided. Emring’s intelligence suggests that Emon hasn’t seen much change, Umbrasyl’s defeat either making Thordak defensive or leaving him uncaring of the fate of his supposed ally. After the flyover from Vorugal, the lack of word from one of their friends, what Emring has heard - apparently Draconia is the likeliest place the white has gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it safe to just go there?” Percy asks. “I don’t know much about dragonborn but I’ve always heard that Draconia is rather… isolationist. Its proximity to the Dwendalian Empire leaves it unwelcoming to outsiders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could scry?” Keyleth suggests. “Not now - we should find a safe place to scry from. But it’d let us know if Vorugal is there yet. If it’s even safe to go there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Tibsy’s alive,” Vax adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow,” Cass suggests. She yawns, long and jaw-cracking. “We’ve had a long day. Time to sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s voice is nothing but gentle concern as Vex is getting ready for bed. He hasn’t even moved from his chair by the fire, his sketchbook on his lap, pencil loose in his hand, almost as though he’s waiting for her dismissal before leaving. Honestly, she’d almost forgotten he was there, they’d spent so long in quiet company after settling into their seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been…” He pauses, chews over his words. “Contemplative… this evening,” he says gently, gesturing. “Is something the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” she says, shaking her head. She doesn’t look at where she’s set Fenthras at the foot of her bed - she doesn’t have to. Even with it set down she can almost feel as the vines of it coil and curl, like it’s an extension of her. She’s attuned to magical items before, but Fenthras is unlike anything she’s ever encountered. Even the Deathwalker’s Ward hadn’t felt so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe that was why she’d passed the armour off to her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s quiet. After a moment she hears the familiar soft scratch of pencil on paper - he’s sketching again. Trinket, most likely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not-” he says, as she tugs back covers, and she pauses to look at him. “It’s not the title, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That prompts a slight laugh. “No,” she says. “No. That’s-” She swallows. “That helped a lot, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s smile is small but genuine - not self-satisfied or proud, just… softly pleased. “I’m glad,” he says. “But- </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> something the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles gently, shakes her head. “Nothing you need to worry about,” she says. He gave her a title to help with her doubts, she doesn’t need to tell him how Saundor made her doubt all over again. Instead she offers her hand. “Come to bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rises easily, sets his sketchbook to one side and walks over. Continuing to invite him to bed even just- just to sleep is perhaps not the best of decisions but Percy is easy company, comforting company. For all the slight look of concern on his face, he doesn’t say anything until they’re tucked under covers, his body warm against her back, his arm gentle over her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it to do with the Feywild?” he asks softly. “Or- or the bow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. Perhaps she should regret this, letting Percy into her bed. Sometimes he is dangerously perceptive. She feels him still behind her, go stiff as though afraid, and she lets out a long breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just-” she says. “I wonder if I made the right decision. I could have- I very nearly got them all killed over Fenthras. I don’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Don’t know why she’d fought so fiercely when she could have made a simple deal and solved it without bloodshed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you need it,” Percy points out. “To fight the dragons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but-” She sighs. “I could have- there were easier options than fighting and putting everyone at risk. They could have- Cass and Vax almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>died-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’re alive,” Percy says, clearly confused. “They’re all fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They almost weren’t, though,” she says. “Saundor was… powerful. And we knew that. I knew that. And I could have- I could have just taken his deal and damn my pride-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex swallows. “He offered a deal,” she says. “A loan of the bow in exchange for- for my return to him. For my heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Literally or metaphorically?” She can almost hear the frown in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I didn’t ask,” she admits. “I didn’t- Grog and Scanlan and Vax; those Vestiges are theirs now. And. I didn’t want to have mine as a loaner. Or to- to be beholden to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s silent. When she rolls over to look at him his mouth is opening and closing, wordless.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Say</span>
  </em>
  <span> something,” she begs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” he says, blinking. He opens his mouth once, twice. “I mean, arguably, you’re already beholden to me, what with the title.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs: she doesn’t know how to explain how </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d never-” she says, which is perhaps a bit absolute. “You offered that as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gift,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she says with emphasis. “Not as a debt or-” She shakes her head. “Or as a binding thing. Not like Saundor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy says softly. “No, I suppose not.” He pauses. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says. He sounds aghast. “And for you to return?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “He said he was- that he was lonely. That he wanted someone who understood him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you were strangers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. “Yes,” she says. “But also- no. He knew- he knew things. Things I’ve never told anyone. Something-” Something she’s never spoken of, not even to Vax. Things she’s thought but never said aloud, things she never </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> say aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him knowing your secrets doesn’t mean you’d understand him,” Percy points out. “Just that he might, maybe, understand you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. And she’d wanted that, hadn’t she? To be understood, to not have to speak her fears for them to be heard. Enough that she hadn’t shot immediately, enough that she’d let Saundor talk and try to convince her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough that she’d consider trying to understand him if it meant she was understood. If someone might know and understand and help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She startles when Percy’s hand finds hers, jumps, but Percy’s ink-and-charcoal stained fingers are gentle on hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth,” he says softly. “I’m very glad you refused his offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t mean it was the right decision, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she doesn’t mean to sound so uncertain. “I put your sister at risk. My brother. My bear. My friends. For- for pride and because I didn’t want to make the deal. I could have just- and then I’d have the bow and we wouldn’t have had to fight, none of them would have been hurt-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then,” Percy says gently. “You’d have had to return to him. And your friends and I might never have seen you again. Do you think your brother or my sister would have accepted that. Any of your friends? Do you think we wouldn’t have missed you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was my decision-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy says easily. “And they trusted you. And they clearly don’t regret trusting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-” She pauses. Tries to find the words. “I could have just taken the deal. He didn’t have to die. My friends wouldn’t have been hurt-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not now perhaps,” Percy says. “But when you had to leave?” His hand is gentle on her cheek, his fingers careful as they brush back hair. “Vex. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span> to us. All of us. Do you think we wouldn’t miss you? Wouldn’t want you back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t have to say it; she sees as he understands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Vex,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, almost a breath, not sad or pitying but sympathetic. His hands cup her face, his lips press to hers. It’s more forward than he’s been in a while, but the kiss isn’t forceful, just gentle, warm, almost-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought is too impossible to believe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You matter to us,” he says when he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressed to hers, the words against her lips. “You aren’t- you aren’t something to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>traded,</span>
  </em>
  <span> like you’re chattel or-” He shakes his head. “You aren’t something to be traded. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My heart isn’t something to be traded.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Why does it make her feel so much to be told what she’d said to Saundor? To hear another say it aloud?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s thumbs are gentle on her cheeks; she feels them slide over her skin, slick with moisture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You matter,” he says again. His lips are gentle against hers. “Vex, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips press, gentle but insistent to hers, then to her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Her collarbone. His hands are warm on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says again. “Of course you matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kisses are gentle, repeated fleeting things peppered over her skin, almost teasing as he goes. Neck, collarbones, sternum, repeating patterns as though he’s trying to leave no stretch of skin unkissed even as he slowly makes his way down her body. His hands are gentle, fingers stroking, and when she reaches for him, her hand finding his hair, he tilts his head towards her touch, pressing a kiss to her palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says, soft against her skin, his eyes bright. “Vex. You matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes his way down her body easily, as though this is something he has done far more times than the few they actually have, kissing as he goes, leaving sensitised skin in his wake. Sometimes he pauses, whispers against her skin. From the syllable count Vex can only think he’s repeating himself, reiterating the same words over and over until he moves between her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, his lips and tongue are gentle, testing, and she might almost wonder why this is what he’s turned to to try to make his point, but then his tongue is there and certain as it moves, and she can feel careful fingers, and it is so much easier to just tilt her head back and leave herself safe in his hands than to wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this, Percy undoubtedly knows what he’s doing, deft fingers and clever tongue, and he’s attentive, leaning into her hand when she has presence of mind enough to guide him. She barely has to direct him at all; whatever he’s gleaned from their prior times together he puts to good use, wasting no time. Each stroke of his tongue, each twist of his fingers brings pleasure in its wake and it really is not that long at all before it becomes too much, before she feels herself shake and tense, her fingers tightening in Percy’s hair as he carries her through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she has the presence of mind to take stock of all sensations Percy’s still nestled between her legs, his head canted into her hand, his damp lips pressing light kisses to the softest skin of her palm. He seems, as she looks at him, almost content there, his eyes half-closed behind his glasses and when she hooks a finger under his jaw and pulls him to look at her he smiles softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” she says, pulling him up. He moves quite willingly, clambering a little to settle at her side, nuzzling her shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there. With how he’s turned towards her she can feel him against her hip, not a pressing presence but nonetheless there and she turns toward him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his faintly-damp mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seems surprised by the attention, more so when she pushes herself up, pushes him back when he tries to follow, and kisses him again. He looks confused, but he watches her, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” she says, pushing him gently back into the mattress. “You took such lovely care of me. Let me take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to,” she says, sliding down his body as he had hers. She doesn’t miss the surprised look on his face as she says it, the awed look on his face as she swallows his hardening prick down, the soft gasp he gives as she sucks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex,” he says, soft and almost pleading. She can feel just faintly his fingers flexing where his hand rests on his thigh, just brushing her hair, and she tilts her head towards him, prompting another noise, half-swallowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Vex.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand tangles in her hair, flexing uncertainly but there, fleetingly tugging her closer as she sucks before releasing her. Vex remembers how careful he always is to not restrain or enclose, even when they embrace, and it makes the contact light, barely there, always gentle. Vex is glad he doesn’t hold tight - it gives her more range to move - but his gentleness makes what little contact there is almost teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says her name again as she continues, his voice needy as much as surprised, his hand moving to touch her cheek, tentative and uncertain. When she hums she feels him relax back, his hand flexing in her hair, tentative but present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t seem to take long; Vex’s jaw is barely aching by the time Percy’s hand clenches and she feels him pulse in her mouth, hastily swallowing to avoid the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, when she settles beside him. He’s stretched out, lax on the bed, but when she settles at his side he extends an arm to tug her close, nuzzling briefly at her hair, affectionate as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” she asks, curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s silent for a moment, mouth working but no words said. “That was, um-” He pauses. “New,” he settles on. “I’ve never- thank you, Vex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Now she’s the one with no idea what to say. She could be quippy, make a joke but- “I thought- you and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anna,” Percy says. “No. Um. Other things, yes. But um. That in specific never actually came up.” He shrugs. “She never offered and I never asked. Everything else was- everything else was enough for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t really know what to say to that in the face of Percy’s easy acceptance. She’d think it almost unfair, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> reciprocation should be expected but- well, some people reciprocated in different ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you-” She pauses, unsure how to say it. “You do it for me,” she settles on. “Why shouldn’t I do it for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t want to,” Percy says. “You shouldn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not always going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to,” she agrees. “But that doesn’t mean there might not be times I’d like to take care of you as you do me.” She reaches a hand out, strokes his hair and he leans into the touch with a soft noise, eyes half-closing. “You do such a lovely job of it, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s gone pink, flushed high in his cheeks, his expression almost endearingly embarrassed and it strikes Vex then that Percy clearly hasn’t often been praised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really do,” she says softly. “Percy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His glance to her is tentative, uncertain and- he really doesn’t know what to do with praise, does he? This isn’t like Cassandra’s tendency to be self-deprecating, her admission of her own errors, this is a lack of positive reinforcement. Had Ripley never told him he’d done well? She can’t imagine why not; Percy’s clever and more than capable of being kind, but clearly someone, somewhere, has neglected to tell Percy when he’s done well, that they enjoy his presence, that- that they want him nearby at all, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he spent five years alone without that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, she strokes his hair, reaches to remove his glasses. He startles briefly but settles, his arm resting over her hip and pulling her close once she’s set his glasses beside her Earring on the bedside. He’s a warm presence beside her, his head tucked down against her neck, and it’s easy to look past his pale hair to the cabinet, Earring and glasses glinting in the fading firelight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy?” she says, half to his hair, and he mumbles a noise against her collarbone, just coherent enough to suggest he’s still awake. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s noise is much more confused then, a sleepy </span>
  <em>
    <span>mrrm?</span>
  </em>
  <span> not unlike Trinket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re good company,” she says softly. “Both this and- you’re good company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy’s next noise is much clearer, much more awake, for all his breathing is even, steadying out towards sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Percy says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex thinks, watching over Percy’s head to the light glinting of her Earring and his glasses, that that </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounded very much like his earlier one.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to come and yell at me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and please leave comments below!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Good god,” Percy says as they all make their way in through the doors. “You all look like you’ve been through it. What happened?”</p><p>“Anders,” Cass grits out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A note that the final scene has some smut; if you want to skip that you'll want to scroll from "She doesn’t know what it is, but something about this is different." and read again from around "It’s so very easy to lean and kiss him, not teasing but softly, gently, gladly."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He barely sees anything of Vex - or any of Vox Machina - for the next few days. The next morning they head up into the mountains, seeking out a safe place to scry - when they return several hours later they’re covered in dust as much as snow, looking worn and tired and grieving and arrive through the Sun Tree, a small green-grey pseudodragon perched on Vex’s shoulder.</p><p>“Lockheed,” is all Vex says when he asks. “He was Tiberius’.”</p><p>That- well, he supposes, that solves that. Why they look so haggard, what happened to their friend. What’s happened, likely, to Draconia. The evening is quiet, dinner muted, conversation afterwards stunted. Percy keeps himself occupied with the pseudodragon, offering it food and sketching it where it perches nervously on the mantelpiece, fluttering back anytime someone gets too close.</p><p>It’s skittish and, based on what he’s caught of the others’ conversations, it had reason to be.</p><p>The next day the others head off again, leaving Percy with a still-worried Whitestone to watch over and a half-feral pseudodragon to try to coax back to the castle.</p><p>He has work, he reminds himself of that. He has work - paperwork and accounts, correspondence and plans - to attend to, further bunkers to direct the construction of. Ideas he’d vaguely played with under the Briarwoods that, with the thick layers of winter snow and the presence of dragons, he’s considering once more. Before acid and black powder, he’d once quite loved the complicated uses of clockwork and steam; when he needs a moment to himself, he looks over the ideas once more.</p><p>Whitestone could do with further improving, both surface level ease and passageways for winter or during attacks. He’d meant what he’d said to Vex - he wants to give Whitestone every chance he can.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s four days since their departure that he gets notice from the guards that Vox Machina have returned, that they’re making their way up to the castle and he sets his things down to go and meet them. It’s a clear day out, chilly as anything and the cold eking it’s way inside, but bright and sunny. He descends the stairs to the main hall, waiting for them to crest the rise and pour into the room.</p><p>It’s not at all what he expects.</p><p>“Good god,” Percy says as they all make their way in through the doors. They look haggard and terrible, much of their clothing and armour all torn up and covered in soot-marks and dust. For all that they at least look like they’ve all washed and rested, none of them look terribly <em> well- </em>rested and there’s a young man trailing not far behind Vax’ildan. “You all look like you’ve been through it. What happened?”</p><p>“Anders,” Cass grits out as they come to a halt in the main hall. Cassandra slumps on the settle to one side and starts prying off her boots without ceremony. “Bastard got Cabal’s Ruin.” Percy feels himself still, his eyes still fixed on his sister who’s tipping stones and glassy shards out of her boots. Slowly she looks back up at him. “He’s dead now,” she says. “As a doornail.”</p><p>He blinks, once, twice, then glances across the others. Grog towering, Scanlan tiny, Keyleth and Vax’ildan side by side; Keyleth’s face is exhausted but for all that she looks haggard as all hell she seems relieved too. It’s Vex he looks at last. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping to see in her face but her gaze softens as his eyes meet hers.</p><p>“He’s dead,” she confirms. “Managed to cause some pretty significant problems for us, but he and his men are dead, Vecna’s cult is further set back and we have Cabal’s Ruin.” There’s a smile playing at the edge of her lips. “He’s not going to be hurting anyone anymore.”</p><p>Laid out calm and clear - the only thing that would soothe Percy more is if he got to see the body, but he can’t blame them for not wanting to haul a body back. But Vex has confirmed it, Vex helped with it, Vex has helped to <em> make them safe- </em></p><p>“Thank you,” he says and it comes out far more heartfelt than he intended. Vex peers at him before relaxing.</p><p>“Of course, darling,” she says. “He was rather in our way as well as a threat to Whitestone. He needed to be dealt with.” With that she sighs, sets her shoulders and gestures. “Now, I think, we could all do with a bath, a good meal and some rest. We’ve got Draconia soon.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy is waiting for her when she returns from her bath, sitting in his usual chair beside the fire. She hadn’t thought him terribly worried when she’d left him downstairs - if anything he’d seemed relaxed, relieved at the news of the Professor’s death - but she hadn’t expected his presence here either.</p><p>He hasn’t noticed her return, though, consumed by his sketchbook. As she steps silently closer she can see over his shoulder - one page is sketches of Lockheed, settled, sleeping, wings outstretched. She’d thought the tiny dragonite had left after they brought him here - it looks like Percy’s been trying to coax him back. The other page is Trinket just as he often is, asleep on the hearthrug, details exacting on each plate of armour, how the firelight flickers over them.</p><p>That’s not what his attention is on right now, however. Right now, almost hidden by his hand as he works, is a minute sketch of <em> her. </em></p><p>The details are exact, the feathers behind her ear, each section of her plait, the tiny scar in her eyebrow. He’s more flattering than a mirror, showing her with a smile, a teasing arch to her brow rather than judgemental but- it’s her. </p><p><em> “Percy,” </em> she says and he jumps, drops his pencil, but the sketch is intact, untouched. “You’re a wonderful artist, darling.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, small and soft and pleased. He’s recovered his pencil and he’s looking up at her, head tilted back, a remarkably open expression on his face. “Um. Thank you.”</p><p>He says nothing, doesn’t move as she throws herself into the other chair, kicks her still damp feet up onto the low stool by the fire and relaxes. She doesn’t know why Percy’s here - she’s no doubt he’ll say if it matters - but he’s never a trying presence, always light and almost weightless. Besides, there’s only a few questions he’s likely to ask, really. She’s no doubt he wants to know what happened.</p><p>She’s pretty much dry and thoroughly fire-warmed by the time Percy speaks, her hair out of its towel and being slowly combed out. Percy’s sketched occasionally, but on a new page; she hasn’t been able to see what he’s drawing and mostly she’s been wondering what’s taking him so long to <em> ask. </em></p><p>“Do you mind if-” he pauses, tapping the end of his pencil against the paper. “What- <em> happened, </em> Vex?”</p><p>“You remember why we went to Marquet?” she asks.</p><p>“One of the Vestiges,” Percy says. “Ah- the magic-eating cloak I believe?”</p><p>She nods. “Cabal’s Ruin,” she says. “It was held by a mercenary named Mistress Asharru who lived in Ank’harel. So we went and we arranged a meeting just to see if it was true and, if it was, if we could obtain it.”</p><p>“A Vestige is priceless,” Percy says. “She wouldn’t have traded it. Is that…?” He trails off and Vex shakes her head. It’s an understandable conclusion but-</p><p>“It was already gone.” </p><p>Percy’s expression is much like all of theirs had been when they’d arrived at the meeting place to see no sign of the cloak, to see the expression of anger on Asharru’s face. It had taken them a few moments to realise it was stolen - several more to realise what had transpired, but Percy already knows the core piece of information here and Vex knows he’s too clever not to put it together.</p><p>“Anders,” he says.</p><p>“He’d Charmed her,” she says. “She gave us a description and one of her men had pickpocketed-” And she reaches for her clothes, for the small unholy pendant she’d tucked in a pocket. She passes it to Percy and is at once vindicated and saddened at his expression as he recognises it.</p><p>“Vecna,” he says.</p><p>“We assume that was how he knew where to go,” she says.</p><p>“Makes sense,” Percy says, turning the pendant in his hand. “Vecna is- is Ioun’s opposite. She keeps knowledge to share, he collects it to keep. With the Vestiges as secrets, there’s- there’s good odds he’d know something about them from that, and that- that he’d share knowledge of them to trusted followers if it would help.”</p><p>“And what would be more help than a magic-eating cloak.” She sighs. “We tracked him to Glintshore. We were lucky; he wasn’t expecting us.”</p><p>It’s easy to explain the rest. The fight, the reveal of Kynan’s presence and another Vestige, the cave-temple and the Gate scroll on Anders’ body, when finally they saw him dead. She does not mention Cass’ utter rage at Anders’ presence, just reiterates that he is dead and the look on Percy’s face is one that she does not know how to read.</p><p>“He’s gone,” he says, almost like a prayer answered. “And you-”</p><p>“All of us,” she says, because she won’t leave them out of this. “We all took him down.” </p><p>“You all fought him,” he says softly. “But someone got the final strike, didn’t they?”</p><p>She hadn’t thought on it much at the time - they’d had too much else to focus on, Cass so close to death, all of them beaten up and battered, Kynan to talk down and the island to explore - but if there’s one thing she can reliably be counted on to be, it’s perceptive.</p><p>“Yes.” She doesn’t know if she should admit it, admit what they’d all seen but that not all of them thought to mention or consider. But Percy’s looking at her, something pleading in his expression, waiting so clearly just to <em> know. </em> “When- when Fenthras kills,” she says. “A tree grows from the body. It’s part of it’s magic.” Percy’s eyes are keen, watchful and waiting. “A tree grew from Anders.”</p><p>Percy’s face- he doesn’t light up exactly, his expression is not bright, or glad or wondrous, but it’s as though a weight has been lifted - the fear, she supposes, the dread of when Anders might return to hurt them and he’s looking at <em> her </em> like that. Like she’s the one who made Whitestone safe.</p><p><em> “Good,” </em> he says, breathed out, and there really is something bright in his gaze now, not gratitude but- she doesn’t know what to make of it.</p><p>“Percy?”</p><p>“Vex.” He says it seemingly automatically, eyes on hers before flicking briefly away. He sets his sketchbook aside, pencil neatly set atop it, tries to set his hands to rest atop the arms of his chair but his fingers are tapping restlessly, his eyes already back to her.</p><p>She’s never seen him like this before, whatever this is, but she’s not afraid. Percy has never been someone for her to be afraid of, even if his expression is intense in a way she’s never seen before.</p><p>“May-” he says, and he pauses, mouth opening and closing before he pushes on. “May I kiss you?”</p><p>It’s the farthest thing from what she’s expecting but Percy doesn’t move, just sits there, restlessly waiting and so she rises and she crosses to him. She’s halfway across the few steps between them when he rises too, his hand reaching for her wrist, his expression still something she cannot quite make sense of.</p><p>“Please?” he asks.</p><p>This close it’s easier to make sense of his expression even if she doesn’t entirely understand it. There’s something wanting in his eyes, something relieved and something desperate at once, and she tilts her head up to face him. She doesn’t expect his lips to find hers first.</p><p>Percy’s so often tentative, so often careful, light in his affection or waiting for her cue, but in this he isn’t, kissing first, kissing with intent and it’s not as though he hasn’t before, but not like <em> this.</em> </p><p>She doesn’t know what it is, but something about this is different. </p><p>His hands find her hips, bare beneath the towel already slipping down. She’s dry and it’s not wrapped as tightly as it was before after so long spent stretched out by the fire, relaxing and talking with Percy, and she’s content to let it drop. Percy is likewise, it seems, or maybe it’s just how he usually is, letting her take the lead.</p><p>This is different, yes, but different doesn’t mean bad, and Percy’s touch is still gentle, still careful for all he’s more clearly showing what he wants. If letting her towel drop is such, if his hands on her bare hips are, then she’s not opposed. It’s always good to remember you’re alive and Percy is very, <em> very </em> good at acting as a reminder. She kicks the towel to one side, lifts her hands to his shirt, plucking at his buttons and he laughs briefly, sounding almost giddy. </p><p>His lips are back on hers in moments, his hands joining hers until he’s shed his shirt and she’s shed her towel and they’re standing before the fire with very little between them. Honestly, all Vex has on her right now is the pendant, her Earring removed after her bath.</p><p>“Vex,” Percy says, her name soft over her lips and he’s stepped closer, into her space and she steps not back towards her chair but sideways and then back, back towards her bed. Percy follows almost eagerly, not the simple willingness to follow as before but almost chasing her steps. When she falls back onto the mattress she doesn’t have to tug him down behind her, doesn’t have to invite him to follow; he’s there above her, his expression far more readable now. </p><p>She knows what Percy looks like when he wants her, knows the questioning look in his eye when he’s asking for direction and it’s easy to take his face in her hands and pull him down to kiss her.</p><p>His lips are warm on hers, following where she leads but as soon as her hands move so does he, and <em> oh </em> this is new, Percy going entirely his own way, diverging entirely from what few directions she gives.</p><p>His kisses are quick and determined, her mouth over and over, her jaw, sucking kisses to her neck that are almost enough to bruise, but never quite, leaving sensitised skin in his wake. He doesn’t move down her body as before, for all he’s braced above her and that can’t be comfortable for his arms, locked in place, but his attention is on her, there’s no doubt about it, no doubt at all when he lifts one hand to her breast, touching and teasing so she rises to meet him, pulls him closer with arms and legs until he groans as she grinds against him.</p><p>He’s still got his trousers on, damn him, but he’s quick enough to rectify that when her hands slide down his back, pushing at the waistband, one hand quick on buttons, shoving the fabric down as much as she is, until they’re pressed bare skin to bare skin, his face buried against her neck, leaving feather-light kisses on her pulse.</p><p>“Percy,” she says, pulling him closer, and he groans, the noise tantalizing beneath her ear before his lips touch skin again - her jaw, the lobe of her ear, his hands on <em> her </em> now he’s given up bracing himself above her, but his weight is never crushing, his body always moving as his hands are. </p><p>His hands reach between her legs and she cannot help her gasp, not as his fingers find her already slick, sliding over skin, easily, around her clit in soft circles before dipping lower, pressing in. She arches into his touch, breast into his free hand, neck towards his teeth and he teases at both, just enough to be present, not enough to be what she wants.</p><p>She can feel him pressing against her, hard against her thigh as his hands work, as his lips tease and tease along her neck and cheek before returning to hers, and when they do she <em> bites, </em> tugs on his lip with her teeth to pull him close and he groans far louder than before, louder than she thinks he even realises, his hips twitching almost in response.</p><p>She touches her hands to his shoulders, tugs gently at his arm and he moves his hands easily, not even hesitating, fingers pulled from within her in a move that leaves her gasping. She doesn’t hesitate though, sliding her hands down his sides, resting them on his hips as she lifts her legs to bracket him, as she tugs him close.</p><p>“Come <em> here,” </em> she says.</p><p>He’s paused above her, eyes bright and blue, lips red from kisses as much as her teeth, and she sees his tongue dart out, lick a line where she knows she’d bitten not long before.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, his head dipping towards her, angling to kiss her, his hand slipping between them-</p><p>And then he’s sliding into her, the stretch not as much as it could be after his fingers there before, and she cants her hips to his, lifts her legs to wrap around him and pulls him close. His hand stays between them as his hips move, awkward as it must be, fingers sliding between them until she gasps and he makes some indefinable noise by her ear, breath hot and damp and she pulls him closer, her hands tangling tight in his hair. She thinks it might almost hurt him, how tightly she holds, but he doesn’t complain, pulling against it and leaning into it in equal measure, tugging only so he can tease and kiss elsewhere, leaning into it when she directs him someplace else.</p><p>She pulls him to face her, to kiss him, to tug his lips with her teeth and she feels him stutter against her, his fingers and his hips losing their rhythm, but he makes no complaint, groaning into the kiss when she does so, just as when she tugs his hair, as when she runs her nails down his back, digging in just enough to be felt.</p><p>“Please,” he says, breathed out against her lips, fingers trying desperately to once more find their rhythm until she arches against him.</p><p>“Yes,” she replies. “Just there, Percy, just like that.”</p><p>He doesn’t need to be told twice. His fingers circle, his hips in time and even as it gets harder to match him he doesn’t let up, doesn’t pause, just keeps going until she clenches around him, her legs pulling him close, pulling him deeper into her and she hears him groan, feels him thrust once, twice more his fingers moving just faintly. She’s sensitive, so sensitive and when finally he stops, shuddering, she’s trembling, one hand on his back, the other buried in his hair, his face buried against her neck and he twists awkwardly above her, clearly trying not to crush her.</p><p>“Come here,” she says, voice faint, but he listens all the same, curling awkwardly against her side as her legs have not yet let him go. It’s easy to turn her face to kiss him - his cheekbone first, his face still buried against her neck, then his lips as he lifts his head to face her, to run her tongue over his lips and hear him gasp just softly.</p><p>Good gods. She hasn’t had a time like that in- she doesn’t know how long, really. Even the other times with him hardly count in comparison. Good, yes, but not this, something far more intense than he’s ever yet shown, even after she’d died. He’s nosing gently at her cheek, nuzzling kisses there and at her jaw, at her neck, pressing his lips to sensitive skin gently enough it doesn’t make her eager to go again, gently enough it doesn’t make her ache, gently as though he’s guiding her down after all of that, a soft and soothing pattern.</p><p>Her legs untangle from around him and he slides off her, slides out of her. His hands already reaching, finding the cloth by the washbasin and as he carefully mops them up she lifts her free hand from where it rests on his hip, trails her nails lightly up his side and watches him shiver, watches him lift his head again to look at her, ever attentive. It’s so very easy to lean and kiss him, not teasing but softly, gently, gladly.</p><p>“Thank you,” she says. She rests her forehead against his, too tired to hold up her head and he stays there, ready support, as she presses forwards to kiss him again. “That was lovely, Percy. Thank you.”</p><p>When she pulls back, slumping down onto pillows, he follows easily, though not immediately, a long enough gap that she can see the pink flush on his cheeks, the pleased expression on his face. His lips press lightly to her cheek.</p><p>His words are soft, his words are quiet and gentle and she almost doesn’t hear as he finishes cleaning them up, as he pulls the covers over them and settles beside her. Almost - but she hears nonetheless.</p><p>“I want to make you happy.”</p><p>It’s easy to find his hand with how he’s curled beside her, easy to interlink their fingers and lift their joined hands to her mouth. It’s easy to kiss his knuckles. </p><p><em> You do, </em> she thinks, too tired to put it to words just now, but trusting affection to make it clear. <em> You do. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Questions some of you might have about what happened here:</p><p>
  <b>1. How come no one died against Anders?</b>
</p><p>Anders wasn't prepared for them. He's not Ripley; he didn't have a weapon enchanted with a listening spell that VM took from him and used on a regular basis. He didn't know they were after the Vestiges, let alone that they were coming after him.</p><p>
  <b>2. How the hell did Anders know about the Vestiges then?</b>
</p><p>As Percy theorises here, the Vestiges are largely kept secret. Anders was a Vecna cultist and Vecna is the demigod of secrets. Without the siphon beneath Whitestone to empower him Vecna is seeking magical artefacts and opportunities to set up another siphon - and with Vestiges as secrets he has some degree of knowledge of them which gets passed on to loyal cultists like Anders. Dead cultists now.</p><p>
  <b>3. But Essay! What purpose does this chapter serve?</b>
</p><p>Who here remembers the last time someone made Percy feel safe by getting rid of Anders? <i>*points vigorously at the many tags*</i> I wasn't kidding!</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as veer ever more towards this arc's end. Feel free to come visit me on my <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and as ever I love to receive comments from you all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He can feel the anxiety twisting in his gut, but his shoulders relax, some of the tension at his neck eases. Vex is not Anna, no, but she has made them safe once before, has been nothing but good, has proven herself capable. Her friends too are more than able; they felled the <i>Briarwoods</i> for Pelor’s sake, and he nods. “I trust you,” he says. “And I trust your judgement. As long as Whitestone is safe.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is another pretty brisk little chapters - but there's gonna be some meat to the remaining few.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning is busy. Breakfast, checking over everyone and everything. And then, shortly after breakfast is finished and Vox Machina’s preparations for Draconia are done, Seeker Emring asks to speak to them. Percy assumes it’s further preparation, intelligence regarding Draconia or the like, and leaves them to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t expect to see them so soon after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something’s the matter.” He doesn’t even register himself saying the words; something in Vex’s stance betrays it, in Cassandra’s expression, in </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them. But it’s Vex he sees first, Vex he understands first and it’s Vex to whom he speaks. He pauses, watches, but Vex says nothing, just bites her lip consideringly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Vex cuts Grog off without hesitation and Percy blinks. “Grog, we agreed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but-” the goliath said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t say anything about if people figured it out on their own.” Vax’ildan’s voice is quiet, eyes watchful and Percy glances quickly over the rest before looking back once more to Vex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He hasn’t,” she points out. “‘Something’s the matter’ doesn’t equate to having figured it all out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he lets out a long breath. “Something is the matter,” he says. “Correct?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex nods, a quick small thing, darting like her movements when they’d first met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. All right.” He pauses, glances over the group before looking back to Vex. She’s standing there, still uncertain, but he knows better than to ask for knowledge he doesn’t need to know. Vex has made them safe once before without him having even an inkling til it was done. He can have faith in her now. “Vex,” he says quietly. “Do I need to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says. “But we can’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it an immediate threat?” He doesn’t ask if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a threat. He thinks their response speaks for itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet.” Cassandra’s voice is quiet, but Percy doesn’t take his eyes from Vex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right now,” she says. “If anything- right now it’s more a help than anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a long breath, slow and careful, lets his shoulders relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it becomes a threat,” he says. “Can you deal with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex doesn’t hesitate then. Her hand tightens around Fenthras’ grip as she says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right,” he says. He can feel the anxiety twisting in his gut, but his shoulders relax, some of the tension at his neck eases. Vex is not Anna, no, but she has made them safe once before, has been nothing but good, has proven herself capable. Her friends too are more than able; they felled the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Briarwoods</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Pelor’s sake, and he nods. “I trust you,” he says. “And I trust your judgement. As long as Whitestone is safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As long as we are safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He doesn’t know if Vex hears the unspoken words, but she nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right,” he says again. “What now? Honestly, it looks like you all need a stiff drink.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>For several days Percy sees nothing of them. The next morning they set off early for Draconia and all he can do is wait - wait and hope they bring down Vorugal, wait and hope that they return unscathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do, which is something. He cannot help his smile as he sees them crest the top of the hill path towards the castle, perhaps a little bruised but otherwise unhurt, a huge roll of shimmering white dragonhide slung over Grog’s massive shoulder, Lady Kima beside him toting a new sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex, bracketed by her brother and her bear, looks radiant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” he says to them all. “Welcome home,” he says to Vex and to Cassandra. “It looks like that went rather well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others make some noise, general agreement and affirmation, but Percy doesn’t look away from Vex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on in,” he says, gesturing. “I suspect everyone here today will be down soon; with the green in the wind, only Thordak is left and I think they’re going to want to plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t miss the flicker in Vex’s expression but it hardly matters as they all follow him inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room they all end up convening in is one of the smaller dining rooms. Not the grand hall used for formal dinners (they still have not scrubbed all the bloodstains from the stone floor. Percy still doesn’t dare step inside its doors) but the room once used for family dinners, when Father wanted to announce something. With everything going on they’ve had no cause to use it; mostly they’ve used the breakfasting room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Kima is there, of course, chatting with Arcanist Vysoren, Elementalist Thunderbrand on the Arcanist’s other side. Seeker Emring is around as well - though Percy’s barely seen hide nor hair of him over the past few days. Madam Hydris is there, a book in her hands as everyone gathers, Brother Kashaw Vesh at her side, scowling as ever, and Gilmore, though wan, is present, his shop assistant beside him, chatting with Captain Howarth as everyone arrives. Vox Machina stay all in a bundle, half them staying on their feet rather than sitting and Percy half wonders that despite their place on the Council, despite Cassandra’s presence, they’re so willing to stay together as though a single side against everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” says Seeker Emring. “Now that we’re all here, I believe we need to discuss how best to fight Thordak and his forces in Emon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Cass says, and he hasn’t heard Cass sound like this since- since she came to reclaim Whitestone from the Briarwoods. Her gaze is fixed on Seeker Emring. “No, I think now’s the time to speak plainly, especially when it comes to what allies we have to hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cassandra-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some things aren’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>said,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cassandra says. “Some things are </span>
  <em>
    <span>proven.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Are you with us or no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Emring looks insulted. “Of cour-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cassandra.” Arcanist Vysoren’s voice cuts across Emring. “What is the meaning of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy would rather like to know too. Whatever happened before they’d left, it had involved Emring, something about their meeting with him had left them concerned but when he looks at Vex her face is set. Whatever this is, he suspects Vox Machina are in agreement. The fact that Vex doesn’t flinch as Cassandra hurls a dagger without warning is another clue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blade passes through Emring. He sees it hit, sees it connect, but it doesn’t stop, passing right through and out the other side, embedding into the panelling of the wall behind the halfling. A moment later and Emring is seemingly four feet away - but he didn’t move before the dagger hit. Only after it had clearly passed through him. Percy can’t help his surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gave you a chance,” says Vax’ildan, before he can finish. Vax’ildan’s eyes are on Emring. “You say you want him dead too? Then let’s all be honest here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless that’s literally impossible for you,” Scanlan quips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone’s eyes are moving, flicking between Seeker Emring and the assembled Vox Machina. Percy has no idea what to think - Emring is of the Council of Tal’Dorei, like Vysoren, like Vox Machina. He’s trusted, else he wouldn’t be here at all, he’s a skilled ranger, just like Vex, or he wouldn’t be able to avoid notice so well. He’s useful, he’s their </span>
  <em>
    <span>ally.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But Vox Machina is Vox Machina. Vox Machina has </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vex.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And he doesn’t think Vex would judge a situation wrong. There’s few more perceptive than she is, he knows that even from what little time he’s known her. He knows, too, that something to do with Emring caused them all to be concerned, that something to do with Emring is the reason for why something is the matter and he believes Vex if no one else, knows he can trust her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s as he’s trying to reason out what to do that Emring’s form flickers, green scales, blackened veins, a terrible golden eye on Emring’s scarred face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers, with crystal clarity, what Cassandra had said when she’d brought the first of the refugees. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A green, a black, a white and a red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The black is dead. The white is dead. The red remains in Emon and the green is to the winds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The green is right in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart thunders in his chest, he can feel it, and barely hears as the others burst into shouts before the dragon masquerading as one of their allies snarls something terrible and loud and speaks in Emring’s even tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his fingers into the table, digs his nails in. It’s tough old oakwood, had years upon years to age and harden, and nothing he or his siblings had ever done had put a dent in it. He can see Cassandra across the table, something terrible in her expression, angry and protective at once, fierce and ready to fight in a way completely alien to what he remembers of their childhood. It’s more like Mother’s expression or Vesper’s, Father or Julius when someone caused grave insult. He’d never thought he’d see it on Cassandra’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dragon is speaking, trying to convince them all it’s on their side, he supposes, but he cannot tell for the ringing in his ears. This is all that he had feared of Anders - returning illusioned into their midst, causing a furore and a fight and making his whole world once more unsafe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to do until a hand slips into his and squeezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost jumps, barely doesn’t and when he glances to his side, Vex is there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex is there. Vex who has made them safe before, Vex who has promised that they can handle whatever this is with not-Emring. Carefully, fleetingly, he squeezes back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has a war council to pay attention to.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vex pulls him aside after, though she hardly needs to try. He’s heading off his own way and she’s right beside him, having risen with him as everyone moved to disperse. It’s all too easy for her to snag his hand again, to tug him out of the halls and into the small parlour they all usually sit in in the evenings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long moment they say nothing. Percy can still feel his heart racing, but Vex’s hand is warm in his and he lets a long breath out, relaxes his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says. “That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I was expecting the matter to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex laughs, but it’s brief and fluttery, almost brittle and he waves his free hand to try to make light of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought- thought it could be something to do with the wolf in the woods or the obelisks for the shield or-” He pauses, shakes his head. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cassandra thought you were going to be furious,” Vex admits. “Us keeping knowledge of a threat from you. She wanted to tell you immediately, no matter what we’d agreed with Raishan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. That’s- that’s not what he’d expected at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We agreed you had enough on your plate, in the end.” Vex’s voice is still soft, offering an explanation as though he needs it, as though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>minds.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “But- we knew we’d have to tell you. After what happened before, the Briarwoods, Hotis sneaking in-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a moment to place Hotis - the rakshasa that had pretended to be Gilmore - but he understands her reasoning easily enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right,” he says softly. “Really. I-” He pauses. “The past few years it was often safer for me not to know things. Either it was dangerous for me to know, or knowing would make me uselessly anxious so…” He trails off and shrugs. “Provided I know what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know - if there’s a threat, if I need to keep an eye on something - that’s enough. I don’t need to know all of the details.” He squeezes Vex’s hand gently. “I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to make of Vex’s expression - her eyes are damp enough he suspects she’s touched by his faith in her, but there’s a downturn to her mouth, a hint of worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know better than most what it is to work with people you fear or hate in hope of your own goal,” he says softly. “I’m not-” He sighs, squeezes Vex’s hand again. “We do what we need to do. And, with any luck, this will be over soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex’s hand is warm and gentle on his. “With any luck,” she agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you enjoyed this feel free to come and find me over on my <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and as ever, please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’ll do my best,” she repeats. She looks at him, eyes soft and fond - more so even than Anna’s ever were. “You know I can’t promise more than that.”</p><p>He does. He does. He hates that fact, that they cannot make simple promises and keep to them, that the world is so very dangerous. He holds her hand in his, presses her forehead to hers and in the brief moments before she rises, he thinks, as loudly and clearly as he can, <i>I love you. </i></p><p>One day, he thinks, maybe when she gets back, he will say it to her aloud.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the next day their course is set. Vox Machina leave to check on the state of Fort Daxio, Pike included, and plan to go from there briefly to the Plane of Fire in hope of getting one last Vestige - one last piece of help in this all. The morning before they leave Percy curls close around Vex, his thumb stroking over her spine.</p><p>“We shouldn’t be long,” Vex promises. “And- when we get back…”</p><p>She trails off, gaze going distant. Percy knows well why; he hasn’t had to see the monstrous dragon in Emon to know how much they’re all dreading it, to know too, just how much it’s death means to Vex and her brother. Gently, he kisses her - her forehead, her cheek, her lips.</p><p>“You’ll manage it,” he says. “I have every faith in you. And when it’s all done, when Thordak and Raishan are dead, you can return here and <em> rest. </em> For as long as you like.” He takes his hand in hers, lifts her knuckles to his lips. “Whitestone is your home too,” he reminds her. “As long as you’d like it to be.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re gone three days. Percy spends much of it in conversations with the once-Empress Salda. He’s not seen half as much of her as he really should have; she and her children had mostly stayed with Gilmore and his shop assistant and it’s over those few days, as they start to make plans for the eventual return to Emon, that he comes to understand why. It had been Gilmore to save her and her children, Vox Machina to get them out of the city.</p><p>Percy feels deeply vindicated as he talks to her: she has not forgotten what they did for her, just as he’d told them that month and a half ago.</p><p>Emring he avoids. Regardless of if it’s the real Emring returned to them or the green dragon Raishan, he has no interest in seeing that face while it represents such a possible risk. Instead he pours himself into work, ensuring the city is functioning, ensuring the refugees who wish to return will be able to, ensuring everything is ready for the attack on Thordak.</p><p>The most they can do is be ready.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy’s knowledge of Celestial is put to good use when Vox Machina returns. Two figures are sat on Trinket’s back, fingers wound tight in the bear’s fur as he trundles along behind Vex. It takes Percy a moment to realise what he’s seeing: there’s something off about the pair, not as overtly as with Madam Hydris but decided nonetheless. As they get closer he can see the pale pupillessness of their eyes, the soft blue hint to their porcelain-pale skin - they’re paler, he thinks, even than he and Cass - but it’s not until Vex tries to coax them off Trinket’s back that he hears the familiar sound of a Celestial accent.</p><p>He’s never seen aasimar before, let alone met a pair of them.</p><p>“Hello,” he says, the Celestial greeting falling easily from his lips despite his years not so much as practicing the language. “Welcome to Whitestone.”</p><p>The pair look at him with twin expressions of surprise and Vex lets out an audible sigh of relief. </p><p>“Thank god,” she says. “They’ve been nervous this whole time. Percy, this is Kyor and Hunin, Kyor, Hunin, this is Percival. This is his castle we’re all staying at.”</p><p>“My family’s castle,” he corrects. And then, in Celestial to the pair: “Properly speaking I just manage it and the town; the castle isn’t really held by any one person so much as being a family responsibility.”</p><p>He’s not sure how well they understand him but they nod all the same. His Celestial is good - he practiced it for years, used to have whole conversations with Father Reynal in the language - but he is only a regular human. For all he knows, there’s something off to an aasimar ear in his pronunciation.</p><p>“Well,” he says, looking first at Vex and then past her to the rest. “Why don’t you all get in and relax, and I’ll see about finding Kyor and Hunin some rooms to stay in and some fresh clothes?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It takes a bit of coaxing to get the pair to get down from Trinket, but they eventually do, once Trinket’s well inside the hall and Percy’s dug out some of the wool-lined boots he and his siblings used to wear from the settle. Assuming that Vex and the others had gone to the Plane of Fire, Percy can’t imagine the two are much used to Whitestone’s level of cold, and with warm boots on their feet and some cloaks from the hall closet they seem rapidly more at ease. </p><p>“Better?” he says in Celestial, and they nod. “All right then. Let’s get you squared away.”</p><p>They’re still nervy, even with him; Percy suspects that they’ve never seen a place like Whitestone and certainly rarely been treated kindly. He tries, as they walk, to gently tease out where they’re from, why they’re here. </p><p>“They bought us,” one of them says - Percy thinks it’s Kyor, and honestly, bless Celestial’s complexity, because now he can be sure of pronouns. “And then- she said we were free?”</p><p>“If she said it,” Percy says, “Then I’ve no doubt she means it.” He looks them over carefully - their clothes worn, the marks of chains at their wrists (and he assumes ankles, now hidden by the warm boots), the wariness in their eyes. He draws them to a halt outside some of the recently tidied up guest rooms and makes sure to look them in the eye. “You’re as safe here as we can keep you. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. And- if you’d like something to do, I’m sure we can find things to keep you occupied. But if you’d just like to rest and read and… and be <em> children </em> again, you can.”</p><p>“Don’t know how to read.”</p><p>Percy blinks at that - the other of the boys, the slightly smaller one, Hunin, was the one to speak after so long being quiet - and in Common now, not Celestial.</p><p>“If you’d like,” he says, matching the language, “I’m sure the acolytes of Keeper Yennen or of Vex’s friend Pike would be happy to teach you to read. We’ve got a good library here, despite the Briarwoods best efforts.”</p><p>“Do we have to?”</p><p>“No,” he says, looking at Kyor. “No, you don’t. Vex said you’re free, remember?”</p><p>Hunin nods but Kyor just watches, his arm around his brother, gaze watchful and expression protective.</p><p>“Masters being nice doesn’t mean they’re honest,” Hunin says quietly, after a while. Kyor glances down at him but Hunin doesn’t seem to mind and Percy shakes his head.</p><p>“No one here is your master,” he says. “You’re not slaves anymore, you’re free. Do you not believe me? Or Vex?”</p><p>“She’s-” The boys trail off, despite having started in unison. Hunin finishes - in Celestial once more. “Intimidating.”</p><p>Almost <em> scary, </em> Percy notes, given their tone. Honestly, given the specific Celestial word used, <em> scary </em> isn’t even necessarily the wrong translation - though the word can mean something closer to <em> intense </em> or <em> overwhelming </em> or <em> powerful </em> at times, it depends on context <em> . </em> He can hardly disagree with them really, though he can specify.</p><p>“I’ve never found Vex intimidating,” he says to the boys. They glance at each other, clearly doubtful. “She’s fierce, yes, and strong, and that can <em> be </em> intimidating and even scary, but she’ll never try to scare you or me. Vex points her scary at other people.”</p><p>“She kept us safe from a pit fiend,” Kyor says quietly, and Percy makes himself smile. </p><p>“Did she now? That must have been quite something.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The boys are easily sorted after a few moments. They end up in one guest room, clearly unwilling to be apart. Given how they act, what it speaks to of their past, Percy can hardly blame them. He half-suspects he scares them a bit too, or at least that they don’t know what to make of him and so he flags down one of the maids and asks if they might now be willing to look in on them. With Gaela, at least, the boys seem much more at ease, though Kyor frowns to learn she doesn’t know Celestial.</p><p>“Not everyone knows it,” Gaela points out. “But if you’d like you could visit Keeper Yennen later?”</p><p>Percy decides to leave them to it.</p><p>He finds Vox Machina in discussion with the majority of the castle’s guests, moving forward with planning for Emon. He settles in the empty chair between Vex’ahlia and the once-Empress Salda, the latter kindly enough to share her sheet of notes with him so he can catch up. He hardly knows what to make of most of the plan. He doesn’t know enough of Emon or of Thordak to be much help with plans for the attack; the most he can do is advise how many refugees they have who wish to return home and how easily Whitestone can facilitate their return once Emon is safe again.</p><p>The meeting stretches on, to the point that food is brought out, dinner for everyone shared amongst notes and battle maps. Planning seems mostly to wrap up over the meal though, and those present largely relax into conversation. He can’t blame those who don’t - they’ve a fight tomorrow, a fight against possibly the most volatile of the dragons they’ve yet faced, and when Vex finally departs dinner, Percy joins her.</p><p>They fall asleep simply that night, Vex curled against him as he curls around her. With his hand on her back he can feel her every breath.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They set off early the next day. It takes most of Percy’s strength of will not to hold on to Vex, to try to keep her with him for a moment longer. This isn’t like when Anna would leave him - Vex is as capable as Anna if not more so, of that he has no doubt, but Anna never did something so dangerous as this and Percy fears for her in a way he doesn’t know what to do with.</p><p>“Come back,” he asks, stroking her hair back from her face before they rise. “Please?”</p><p>There’s no laughter to her when she looks at him, not even a smile as her hand rises to his cheek. “I’ll do my best,” she says. Her lips are soft on his.</p><p>“Stay safe. Keep <em> all </em> of you safe. And come back.” He kisses her, soft and gentle, then pulls back to look at her. “Please.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best,” she repeats. She looks at him, eyes soft and fond - more so even than Anna’s ever were. “You know I can’t promise more than that.”</p><p>He does. He does. He hates that fact, that they cannot make simple promises and keep to them, that the world is so very dangerous. He holds her hand in his, presses her forehead to hers and in the brief moments before she rises, he thinks, as loudly and clearly as he can, <em> I love you.</em> </p><p>One day, he thinks, maybe when she gets back, he will say it to her aloud.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The boys notice his anxiety; Percy doesn’t know if they’re that just perceptive or if he’s just that obvious. Given their lives before Whitestone, given what they’d said the day before, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d had to be more perceptive than not.</p><p>“Come on,” he says gently, after they’ve stood too long in the entranceway. “Let’s find something to do.”</p><p>They could hardly fight a dragon from here in Whitestone, but they were hardly useless. Percy would not <em> let </em> them be useless.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy can hardly sleep when time comes to rest. He knows he has to - he knows he can too, in like situations. He had always managed sleep in Anna’s absences, like as not, because to go without sleep meant being exhausted and being exhausted meant being useless. </p><p>He cannot be useless. </p><p>It would be easier, perhaps, were he in Vex’s bed, with Vex beside him, if he had the assurance of her presence, but if he had that he would not be like this right now.</p><p>He forces himself to sleep, counts sheep and the stones of the wall above his bed, and is woken only when Vox Machina pour through the Sun Tree, tired and battered but victorious and alive.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He sees them only fleetingly - Thordak is dead, yes, but Raishan escaped who knows where and Emon needs to rebuild. They must chase the green while Percy manages logistics for Emon. They each have a job to do, work to attend to and Percy greets Vex and sees her to her bath, but cannot do more.</p><p>He knows he cannot join Vex now - knows that would defeat the entire point of her resting in preparation of a fight if he were to join her - and he buries the desire down deep and focusses on work. Kyor and Hunin may not know their numbers but they’re smart enough boys to be useful. They’ve learned the castle well in what little time they’ve had and they’re quick to run errands, carry messages, making themselves useful in the organising of everything else. Between their efforts and the teleportation work of some of Archmage Ryndarien’s seeming apprentices, help is being sent out to Emon at breakneck pace. It’s what Vex would want, Percy knows that. The boys to be well and safe and Emon being helped - Greyskull too, if he has his way. </p><p>It’s enough. It has to be enough.</p><p>He doesn’t see them leave for Raishan’s new hiding place. He hopes Vex knows his best wishes go with her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There is a rush when they return. Cassandra is covered in blood, Arcanist Vysoren and Lady Kima drenched in what smells like saltwater, their ally Kerrek looking stunned as Vax’ildan and Grog take it in turns to carry their bard friend through the halls. Percy takes one look at the gnome’s pale, slack face before looking away. It doesn’t escape his notice that Cassandra is avoiding looking as well, nor that Vex’ahlia isn’t present.</p><p>“She’s gone to Kymal,” Keyleth tells him. “Scanlan has a daughter. If anyone might pull him back from death-”</p><p>He’s rarely heard of a resurrection working. Never even dreamed it possible. He knows what they said of Vex in the tomb, but… it’s so hard to believe with how alive she is now. Scanlan is so clearly <em> dead. </em> He looks at Cass’ pale face, at the space where Vex would usually stand and decides that today he doesn’t dare imagine. Instead, he leaves them to their hoping.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s the next day before he sees Vex again, striding back up to the castle Fenthras in hand. She looks, at least, none the worse for wear and though he doesn’t dare embrace her in the open space of the hall it’s enough to see her face, to feel her lips on his cheek.</p><p>“Hello darling,” she says, but he can hear the relief in her voice and the hint of strain behind it. Scanlan is her friend too.</p><p>“They’re upstairs,” he says gently. “Cass said it worked, but that he’s sleeping.”</p><p>He sees the tension leave her shoulders, feels her lips press to his cheek again, her hand to the other before she strides past him.</p><p>“Thank you,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Percy!”</p><p>He doesn’t doubt her at all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to come and yell at me on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>! If you enjoyed this please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><i>You’re far too kind to me,</i> he thinks, and lifts her hands to his lips. Her thumb strokes across his cheek and it’s- it’s easy to stay like this, leaning against the arm of her chair, her hand in his, looking up at her face. It feels right.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scanlan leaves. Percy doesn’t see what happened, doesn’t hear what’s said, but he sees Vex’s drawn expression, sees how she and all her friends seem to be spiralling in separate directions and gently tugs her back to her room. He doesn’t know what to do with this - he’s never been any good at comforting people - but he knows the look on Vex’s face, has seen it on his own before. Guilt and self-blame and castigation are all things he knows too well, and Vex is too good a person to deserve to endure it.</p><p>“Sometimes there isn’t anything to be done,” he says gently. “You can’t live a person’s life for them. They have to choose for themselves.”</p><p>Words only help so much, however, and when she pulls Trinket from her pendant and leans against her bear he settles at her side and offers what silent comfort he can.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Even with the dragons gone, things are not over. Vox Machina has business all around to deal with, places to visit and people to speak to. Despite Scanlan’s departure they cannot leave these various tasks hanging - and, Percy learns, aside from various smaller tasks to complete, Keyleth has yet to finish the very task she originally set out to complete.</p><p>“It’s called the Aramenté,” she says over dinner. “The Noble Odyssey. I have to visit each of the other quarters of the Ashari and complete a trial, to prove I’m capable enough to rule my own.”</p><p>Her own being the Air Ashari as Percy recalls. </p><p>They don’t set off for the last portion of her journey immediately, though. First they must return to Marquet - Cabal’s Ruin safely hidden in Cassandra’s room in Whitestone, lest Asharru seek to reclaim it - in order to assure certain parties that Anders the thief is dead and dealt with.</p><p>Percy does not expect them to return with some new companion so soon after Scanlan’s departure. Nor that said new companion has an <em> automaton. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He watches through his office window as the group haze the new man and as Vex flies down yelling at them all for it. It heartens him and worries him at once to see that - heartening that Vex is so good-hearted as to step in for anyone, and worrisome that she’d step in for this new person. He does not know what to do if Vex decides she prefers their group’s new member to him.</p><p>He meets the new individual - Taryon Gary Darrington and Percy honestly almost pities him for the name alone, but only almost - over dinner. With Vex at his side his anxiety eases and he listens carefully as they plan to visit the Terrah - the Earth Ashari - and find out what they need to reach the Water Ashari and their city of Vesrah.</p><p>“I’ve never even met one of them before,” Keyleth admits. “The Water Ashari. They’re the most isolated of all of us, we don’t tend to hear from them often.”</p><p>“We’ll find them,” Vex assures her. “We’ll just find a captain who knows the way - the Ashari trade and a city in the middle of the ocean’s probably been seen by someone, right?”</p><p>Keyleth nods and Vax, beside her, bumps her shoulder. “We’ll help you find them and we’ll help you with the trial. You’re going to do amazing, Kiki.”</p><p>She still looks nervous for all the twins’ confident words and Percy can see Cass’ expression as she wonders what to say.</p><p>“Keyleth?” he says gently. “For what it is worth, I have every confidence in your ability to do this. Not just your own strength, but also the strength you’ve gathered to your side. And when you return and are made Voice of the Tempest, I hope I am there to see it. If your people are all like you there are far worse allies for Whitestone to have as it rebuilds.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next day they head off for Terrah. Percy at least gets to bid Vex’ahlia farewell; they wake curled in bed together, stretching languidly in the early sun. For the first time in a long time there is no immediate pressing urgency to rush here or fight there. For all they mean to set off for who knows how long a period of time, there is no overwhelming threat. </p><p>It’s a peace unlike anything Percy’s ever known.</p><p>“Stay safe,” he says, half a whisper against the nape of Vex’s neck. “You still have your own trial here when you return, for the Grey Hunt.”</p><p>She hums in curiosity at that and he leans forward, presses a kiss to the soft jut of her spine, then one to her shoulder. </p><p>“I’ll tell you when you return,” he promises. “Just make sure you <em> do.” </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Percy knows better than to worry when he shouldn’t. In Vex’s absence he does all he can to keep himself occupied. It’s more than just taking care of Whitestone now: he has a litany of other things to check on, others that Vex and Vox Machina have brought into his care. The refugees from Emon that remain are well-settled in but there’s others too, others that can, at times, be harder to keep track of.</p><p>When he needs to clear his head he goes for walks in the Parchwood, keeping his eyes peeled for overlarge wolf prints. He’s no tracker, never has been, and though he spots a few footprints that look promising he can never follow them far and knows better than to try. He never sees the wolf, but he hears no stories of maimings. If anything, stories of wolves in the woods become more friendly. Even Hecksa Tinell, known for hunting with a small pack of them, comments to the guard that they’re changing, and the rare stories of bandits on the roads are now coupled with stories of a giant wolf and a pack of regular ones chasing off would-be thieves.</p><p>Lockheed is around too - still skittish, but where Percy’s attempts to coax him back to the castle have been met with only fleeting success, Kyor and Hunin do much better. Kyor and Hunin too are doing better in general too, less nervous when they work, more sure after helping direct people around after Thordak was felled, and quick to learn when he finds them a tutor from town to help them with numbers and letters.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s almost two weeks later that Vex knocks on Percy’s office window, a grin on her face. She’s more tanned than he’s ever seen, hair windswept from the flight and she hauls herself and her broom through the window as soon as he opens it.</p><p>“If you hurry,” she says. “We can make it back through the Sun Tree when Keyleth opens it again and be in time for the Tempest ceremony.”</p><p>Well he’s not going to miss that. He hadn’t lied to Keyleth when he’d said he’d like for Whitestone to be friendly with the Ashari; attending her ascension is the least he can do in proving that. He sets his things aside and they hurry swiftly down to the Sun Tree, Percy leaving notice with the guards that he expects to be back by the next day and to pass anything of importance to Madam Hydris or Keeper Yennen.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He enjoys the celebration, Vex nearby throughout. Never on his arm, both because that is formal in a way Vex is not and because Vex truly is here on her own merit - not as an envoy for Whitestone but as Keyleth’s friend - and he’s not about to tarnish that for her by simply making them each one another’s companions. He keeps her in the corner of his eye, however, and as the celebration starts to quiet, as people start to peel off towards the various huts and houses in the village of Zephrah he finally joins her where she laughs with her brother and with Keyleth.</p><p>He’s already offered his congratulations to Keyleth, so he slips into their small circle easily, Vex’s arm looping through his with nary an apparent thought.</p><p>“Oh!” Keyleth cries when she realises he’s joined them. “We need to send you home!”</p><p>Percy’d had no idea what the plan was for returning him to Whitestone but Vex lays a hand on Keyleth’s arm before he has to think.</p><p>“Portal him in the morning, darling,” Vex says gently. “I think we’re all a bit too tipsy for complicated spellwork right now.”</p><p>She’s not wrong; Keyleth’s cheeks are clearly flushed, Grog and Pike have been swallowing tankard after tankard, even the twins seem perhaps a little less than sober. Percy admits he hasn’t been paying much attention to Cassandra, or to the new man and his automaton.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Vax’ildan agrees when Keyleth glances to him. “Send him off first thing before we go.”</p><p>Percy frowns. “Where are you going?” he asks. He’d rather thought Vesrah was the last planned stop in a while.</p><p>“One last piece of business to wrap up,” Vex says. “Then we’ll be back home in Whitestone.”</p><p>He doesn’t miss how she calls it <em> home. </em> He can’t. It makes him feel warm and contented, so happy he has to smile.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Keyleth agrees, somewhat slurring the syllables. “We’ll send you home. Thank you for coming, Percy.” She yawns, wide and jaw-cracking. “But I think it’s time to sleep.”</p><p>Vax’ildan looks fondly at her, his arm looped around her waist as hers stretches across his back, her hand on his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “Come on, let’s get you to your bed.”</p><p>Slowly, the pair stumble off, both leaning at least a little on one another, Keyleth more than Vax’ildan as they weave through the remaining celebrants.</p><p>“I think,” Vex says, softly and just for him. “They’ve the right idea.”</p><p>She doesn’t have to say more; Percy already knows he’ll follow wherever she leads.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re off again the next morning for one last errand. Keyleth sends him through to the Sun Tree as soon as they’ve all had breakfast and he doesn’t even get to hear their discussion and plans. He just presses a kiss to Vex’s cheek and she one to his before he has to return.</p><p>He feels oddly well-rested as he makes his way up to the castle. It had been an unfamiliar bed he’d slept in the night before, but Vex at least <em> was </em> familiar, warm and safe and trusted. He feels as though he slept even better than when sharing a bed with her back in Whitestone and he’s not sure it wasn’t just the result of the alcohol relaxing him, of the satisfaction of working to build alliances, of the simple <em> peace </em> waking away from Whitestone and knowing he had no pressing work to attend to.</p><p>Except he does have pressing work, now he’s home. He has work that means he’s busy, means he’s useful, means he’s indispensable. Work that means he’s <em> safe.</em> </p><p>Percy sets to work with aplomb.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He receives notice that Vox Machina has returned the very next day but they do not troop up to the castle like usual. He almost wants to set off and find them but- he’d abandoned work to wait for them in the hall; if they aren’t here for him to talk to he might as well return to it. He has letters to attend to after all.</p><p>It’s late when he hears them all clattering upstairs; from the raised voices and uneven footsteps he suspects they’re rather drunk. He pushes what little remains of his work to one side, and goes to pull the door open as he hears them near. </p><p>They’re in an uneven bundle, Vax’ildan and Cassandra on either side of Keyleth, Grog with Pike in his arms as he mumbles along to some seeming lullaby, swaying. Vex is leaning against Trinket, Tary is nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“You didn’t join us,” Vex says when she spots him, sounding more than a little surprised, and he shrugs.</p><p>“You didn’t come up to the castle,” he replies. “I didn’t know where to find you.”</p><p>He can almost see as the thought hits her inebriated mind; she’s come to a halt by his door, the others heading down the hall to their own rooms. </p><p>“Would you like to come in?”</p><p>She glances after the others - her brother and her friends - but his rooms are right there, warmly lit by fire and lamps, comfy chairs by the hearth and she takes two steps forwards with all the stumbling grace of the drunk. He half catches her as she trips at his threshold, pausing for a moment as she leans against him. This close he can smell woodsmoke in her hair, the ever-present damp-bear smell that never quite leaves, the beeswax from her bowstring and her lips, and, atop it all, the smell of alcohol, because of course.</p><p>“I’d offer you a drink,” he says gently as she straightens and moves past him, her bear following suit. “But I rather think you’ve all had enough.”</p><p>“No such thing,” she says as she slumps into a chair, as Trinket curls up by the fireplace a perfect distance from her for her to rest her feet on her bear’s belly. “But I’m good without.”</p><p>It’s easy to join her by the fire, to prop his feet up on the small stool as she curls her toes into Trinket’s fur. </p><p>“You should have joined us,” she says. “Not-” a hand waved “-stayed up here working.”</p><p>He shrugs again. “I had work,” he says. “And like I said, I had no idea where you all were. The guards tell me when you return, not where you all are if you don’t head up to the castle.”</p><p>“Work work work?” she asks, a smile teasing the edge of her mouth. </p><p>“Someone has to,” he says. “Someone has to keep everything ticking over.”</p><p>She reaches vaguely in his direction, across the gap between them as though she wants to take his hand. When she tries again, clearly too drunk and too tired to be bothered to move he rises, nudges the stool over with his foot and pours a glass of water before sitting again, the stool now closer to Vex’s seat.</p><p>“Drink,” he says gently. “Else you’ll have a splitting headache in the morning.”</p><p>“You could have joined us,” she reiterates even as she accepts the glass and takes a sip. “We should have asked you to.”</p><p>“It’s all right-”</p><p>“You shouldn’t be working <em> all </em> the time, Percy.” </p><p>He huffs a laugh. “I’m not,” he promises, combing a hand through his hair. “You told me not to and I agreed, you don’t need to worry about me.”</p><p>Vex’s hand finds his as it falls again. </p><p>“Sure,” she agrees. “But I’m allowed to worry about you. I want you to be well.”</p><p>Oh. Well that’s- he doesn’t entirely know what to do with that, with her hand in his, with the earnest, open look on her face, none of her usual layers in place with how drunk she is. </p><p>“That’s very kind of you,” he says haltingly.</p><p>“Fair,” she says.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Fair,” she repeats. “You want me to be happy. It’s only fair.”</p><p>He can’t help the thought that crosses his mind next, though he hasn’t the foggiest where it came from. <em> You’re far too kind to me, </em> he thinks, and lifts her hands to his lips. Her thumb strokes across his cheek and it’s- it’s easy to stay like this, leaning against the arm of her chair, her hand in his, looking up at her face. It feels right.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just one more chapter left and then on to Arc 3! Feel free to come and ask questions over at my <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and please leave comments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She trudges back the next day. Trinket bears <i>(ha!)</i> the huge hand of her kill without complaint, as good and as trusting as ever, and they make their way, tired and bruised but steady, towards Whitestone. Towards home.</p><p>Percy will be waiting for them, she knows that. Vax too most likely, but Vax is a given, Vax is her twin, Vax is likely going to be up and waiting, he and Keyleth prepared to offer healing because they both are her friends and they worry about her. Percy will be waiting for her just because he wants to see her, she thinks. She doesn’t know how else to make of how he lights up each time she returns back to Whitestone, the open expression of simple happiness he wears, so different to everything else she knows about him.</p><p>It is genuine, though. In that respect it is alike to everything else she knows of him; Percy is genuine in a way she’s rarely encountered before, hadn’t really believed existed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Before we dive into this chapter: *points vigorously at the tags*</p><p>Let no one say I didn't warn you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vex is, miraculously, not as hungover as she could be the next day, and with Keyleth making them all </span>
  <em>
    <span>glissfoil-and-a-few-other-things</span>
  </em>
  <span> hangover cures in the morning she feels right as rain after breakfast. Tary returns as they’re all wrapping up as well, and that’s a lightening and enlightening conversation before Percy pulls her aside to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d wondered when this would happen. Cass had mentioned there was a trial for the Grey Hunt, that it was a title earned; she’s wondering now how exactly that works.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an old practice,” Percy explains. “And- either I can explain it to you, the history and role of the Grey Hunt. Or, if you’d rather, we can speak to Keeper Yennen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cass said it was something to do with Pelor,” she says confused. “I thought Yennen served-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erathis.” Percy’s voice is quiet. “Yes, he does. But in Reynal’s absence, he’s as reliable when it comes to the history. Besides, Erathis and Melora’s courtship is a part of the story, in a way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well now, that just piques her interest and they make their way down to Keeper Yennen to get the full story of it all, the full process and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what leaves Vex sat beneath the Sun Tree, desperately trying to meditate, praying for a vision from Pelor as to what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a quick vision when it comes: the deep woods, a stream, a clearing she half thinks she recognises, a grey skinned beast with bright yellowish eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a map,” she tells Percy back at the castle. “I think I know where to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t doubt her. When she locates the place, when she makes sure Trinket’s armour is fitted properly before they set off, his faith in her, his simple kiss to her cheek and his hope to see her soon heartens her more than such words from anyone else. Vax’s faith in her is a given, Vox Machina’s is from experience. Percy’s faith in her has been there practically from the start, unproven and unasked for. Somehow, he’s never seemed to regret it. She hopes she doesn’t let him down now.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trudges back the next day. Trinket bears </span>
  <em>
    <span>(ha!)</span>
  </em>
  <span> the huge hand of her kill without complaint, as good and as trusting as ever, and they make their way, tired and bruised but steady, towards Whitestone. Towards </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy will be waiting for them, she knows that. Vax too most likely, but Vax is a given, Vax is her twin, Vax is likely going to be up and waiting, he and Keyleth prepared to offer healing because they both are her friends and they worry about her. Percy will be waiting for her just because he wants to see her, she thinks. She doesn’t know how else to make of how he lights up each time she returns back to Whitestone, the open expression of simple happiness he wears, so different to everything else she knows about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is genuine, though. In that respect it is alike to everything else she knows of him; Percy is genuine in a way she’s rarely encountered before, hadn’t really believed existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s always a downside,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the cynical part of her thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s been no downsides with Percy. He accepts Trinket and all her friends without hesitation, is an effective leader of Whitestone, from what she’s seen, but not cruel, not unkind, doesn’t seem to think less of anyone for anything except what they’ve actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>done.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It hasn’t escaped her notice that despite all that Ripley had done, Percy doesn’t even seem to hate her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost, she knows, too good to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows what to expect when she returns: Percy waiting in the doorway to the castle, already notified by a guard as soon as she steps back into Whitestone proper, his expression lighting up, bright and open as he watches her crest the rise back to the castle. She hasn’t missed how he always seems so </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieved</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see her, not just that he’s happy to see her well but like… like when he’d looked up at her when they’d discussed Ripley. She hadn’t missed the sliver of relief then, that she hadn’t pushed, that she’d tried to understand when he’d said that he’d loved the woman once his tutor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still doesn’t understand how that can be true given everything. He’d killed Ripley on little more than Cass’ say-so; either he knew something was up and finally felt he’d been given a chance to act or he didn’t know and yet trusted Cassandra enough to murder someone on her word and little else - and Percy’s not struck her as a fool. Honestly, Percy seems to hardly trust Cassandra these days; she hasn’t missed how he gravitates to her and away from his sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’ll have to ask him, she thinks. What he’d thought and believed. She knows what he’d said when she’d asked the time before, his seeming confusion. She’d suspect some kind of mind control but that Pike’s spell hadn’t caught anything - but then mind control isn’t only spells, is it? She knows all too well how to lead people into thinking one thing or doing another with words alone. Cassandra does it with courtesy, Saundor did it with careful pleading, she does it with flirtation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Percy doesn’t know what to do with praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stumbles to a halt then and there as several pieces slot together. Percy’s confused as to why he’d kill someone he thought he loved, someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>never told him they felt the same.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d said he hadn’t killed her for lack of reciprocation, that he and Ripley couldn’t be open about things, that that was just how things were - but she thinks he has to have known that his uncertainty as to Ripley’s feelings says more than he wanted to admit. But it wasn’t just that Ripley had never reciprocated as he had, wasn’t it? He didn’t know what to do with praise, didn’t know what to do when his affection was matched. Therefore Ripley hadn’t praised him. Hadn’t matched his affection. Hadn’t congratulated him or comforted him, hadn’t assured him of his place with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t cared. She couldn’t have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps this is jealousy. Perhaps this is simply lashing anger at how lost Percy seems sometimes; Vex doesn’t know yet what she feels for him but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> care about him, there’s no denying that. Percy is kind and genuine in a way she’s needed more than perhaps she realised and he’s offered it without any expectation of anything in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any expectation, she half thinks, because Ripley had taught him to never expect anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or is this just jealousy? She cannot let this be; she’d promised Percy not to be and after how genuine he’s been with her she thinks breaking her word to him would be the furthest thing from fair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cannot act on jealous suspicion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too many things make sense though. Trinket </span>
  <em>
    <span>murh’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> in confusion, circling back to stand beside her and she buries a hand in his fur, anchoring herself. She wishes she’d noticed all of this sooner. She’s had facets for weeks - for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span> even, but there have been dragons and aside from those few small things she’s noticed, Percy’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>seemed</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine. He’s managed Whitestone without issue, he socialises with them all when they’re around, he’s offered advice and suggestions. He’s seemed perfectly normal, not unlike Cassandra when dead-set on a task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Cass only gets like that when it’s bad. What does it say that Percy has been like that the whole time they’ve been here? Does he fear them? Fear what they might do? They’re capable fighters but they have no desire to take Whitestone for themselves - and it doesn’t make sense, she thinks, that he’d give her a title if he feared they sought to take Whitestone from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it’s just Cass, his careful avoidance of his own sister. She knows what he’s said, that it’s about Ripley, that he cannot hate the woman who saved his life while Cassandra loathes her utterly and that makes sense, but-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy clings to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She hates Ripley too, inasmuch as one can hate a total stranger, because Ripley played a part in Cassandra losing her whole family and Cassandra might as well </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> family. Why to her and not his sister?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s thoughts circling at the back of her mind, thoughts she doesn’t want to consider. Percy had loved Ripley. Percy has admitted that he and Ripley were close, that he stayed regular nights in her rooms - and the clothes they’d seen scattered certainly attest to some degree of intimacy. Ripley kept him safe and he stayed close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Percy often stays in her rooms. Now she and Percy are close. Should things continue between her and Percy she has no doubt they’ll be keeping spare changes of clothes in one another’s rooms. It’s far too easy to put it together, the logic Percy is using.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She keeps him safe and he stays close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vex swallows. She forces herself to start walking, her fingers flexing in Trinket’s fur. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>murh’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> curiously again but walks on. They’re almost at the edge of the forest, almost at the boundary to Whitestone proper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t think that’s all that there is to it. She doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that to be all there is to it. Percy’s genuine, open and affectionate, honest. He’s offered so much without expectation of anything in return, simply because he can, simply because it helps. The idea that, in truth, he’s done this to keep her close, to try to make sure she’ll keep him safe… it makes her stomach roil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t even know if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> keep him safe. She hadn’t even known that was what this was all </span>
  <em>
    <span>about.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I loved her,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Percy had said. She had thought that was just a belief, that he believed it as true because he had to believe that or- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or he’d break. If he didn’t love Ripley why did he do it all? If he didn’t love Ripley, perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to ignore things like her refusal to reciprocate affection. But if he loved her, if he believed Ripley loved him… well she’d saved his life, hadn’t she? She kept him safe. She kept him alive. And so he loved her. And if he loved her, she couldn’t be terrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <span> him talk about her. Heard the clear affection in his voice, the fondness and the humour. Whether he loved her truly or not, he certainly cared truly for Anna Ripley.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The best lies,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vex remembers being told, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all have a core of truth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he does care now. She doesn’t think he’d light up so utterly to see her if he didn’t truly care. And- she doesn’t think he’s realised, either, what this is, if indeed this really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> what it is. If she isn’t just jealously speculating, trying to justify hatred of a dead woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s early. Whitestone is quiet as she and Trinket make their way through the streets. A guard blearily recognises her as she goes past, rapidly wakening and making his way ahead of her up to the castle. There’s no way that Percy won’t be waiting for her now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy is kind. Percy has been kind and genuine since before they were even truly all that close - he’s been honest, yes, and sometimes bluntly direct, but he hasn’t tried to be cruel to her. To Cassandra in their argument, yes, but- that seems to stem from something else, from growing apart, from misunderstanding. Perhaps because he killed Ripley for his sister’s sake and his sister doesn’t understand how complicated that is for him. Perhaps because of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The path to the castle is clear and cold; the grass to either side is crisped very slightly with ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know if this is the case. It could well all just be speculation. Just be thoughts and feelings brought on by tiredness, by the exhaustion of fighting a beast to protect Whitestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s her role now, isn’t it? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt</span>
  </em>
  <span> and consequently guardian of Whitestone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this is what she fears, the least she can do is investigate. The least she can do is find out if this is a risk to Whitestone, is something she’ll need to protect it from - at the very least she thinks she needs to see Cass and Percy reconciled. Their remaining at odds certainly won’t help the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s waiting in the doorway for her. As he spots her, even at this distance, she can see the smile that spreads across his face, wide and genuine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Vex,” he says as she draws close. He doesn’t comment that she’s clearly done what was tasked of her; he seems to take it as a given that she’d manage it. “I’ve had a bath run for you. I rather suspected you’d want one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up at him. There’s no deception in his face, only a slight hint of worry as though her silence is making him wonder if she’s all right. She has no inkling if her speculation is correct, not from him right now, as he tilts his head to one side questioningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vex?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wraps her arms around his shoulders. For a moment he startles, but he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you darling,” she says. The thought of a bath makes her smile even if none of the rest of this does. “I’d love one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way inside arm in arm and Vex determines how best to broach the matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's the end of this arc. Many thanks once again to the various friends and betas who helped make this happen because I fear I might have given up partway through if they hadn't been encouraging me. Arc3 will begin posting on Monday, it's currently looking to be ~20 or so chapters, depending on a few edits - if you want to know when it goes up please subscribe to the series this is a part of!</p><p>I hope you all enjoyed this fic. Feel free to come and yell at me over on <a href="essayofthoughts.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and, as ever, comments are very much appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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